The Seventh Year
by Insertyourfanfichere
Summary: Our heroes return to Hogwarts for their final year of schooling after the defeat of Voldemort. An exploration of a normal life (more H/G than R/H) rather than a story with a villain to conquer or plot to progress. With the Carrows gone and McGonagall headmistress now, come find out who's teaching DADA and Transfiguration, and what's become of Slytherin house. You know you want to.
1. The Boy Who Lives

A/N:

So this is an idea I've had in my head since I first finished book 7 on the day it came out in 2007. I've started this thing a half-dozen times, but never really took writing seriously, so it just kind of ran out of gas. I think I'm aptly motivated this time around, otherwise I wouldn't be publishing the first chapter.

**This is a story in which** Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all go back to school and just kind of... hang out and stuff. Don't expect any villain to appear for quite a long while, if I can even write one that I like (no luck after 6 years). This is a way for me to have fun with all of my "What if"s. I wasn't quite finished imagining the world Rowling has built, and I can't stand self-inserts, so I'll do this thing instead.

I'm generally a canon nazi, but I've got a few issues with that epilogue, so I'll give you the rundown now.

Pairings will be canon. Lore will be canon. Laws and rules of magic will be canon. There will be no OCs unless they are villains. Career choices might not be canon... but I don't even know if this fic will get to the end of their year.

* * *

_To Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_Your services to the Wizarding World have been instrumental to the continued survival of our kind, and shall not be forgotten._

_For your confrontation and defeat of the dark wizard Tom Marvolo Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort, you are hereby awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class._

__Below were signatures and seals of authenticity from several organizations—including the Wizengamot—as well as a signature from Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister.

Harry couldn't stop reading it. The accompanying plaque, glazed and embossed with golden gothic lettering was making its way around the crowded room with the two others that had been delivered to the Burrow that morning. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all been given an Order of Merlin, First Class.

A handwritten letter from Kingsley had come with the litter of appraisals noting there was no need for a ceremony if Harry would rather keep it a quiet affair. Harry was grateful for this, and knew this to be one of the many luxuries of privacy he was enjoying thanks to an Order member heading the Ministry.

After a few rounds of congratulations, Mrs. Weasley decided a celebratory dinner was necessary, and set about assigning tasks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were excused from any prep work, but they volunteered anyway, not wanting to miss out on the high spirits that had been rather elusive the past few days.

May had been given a spirited streak of sunshine, but the weather had not done much to lift the spirits of the survivors of the war. Hogwarts had closed for the year, and there were parties and celebrations sprouting up all over wizarding England. But at the Burrow, away from the hustle and bustle, and in between the quiet pleasantries of passing conversation, the fallen were prominent in everyone's thoughts.

No one particularly wanted do anything fun for fear of the guilt that struck when a person smiled or laughed in the wake of the dead. George was doing his best to raise everyone's spirits, but it was a big job to do alone, and he wasn't immune to the loss of loved ones himself.

The Burrow was hosting nearly the entirety of the Weasley brood, including Charlie, who had come home after Voldemort's defeat, and Percy, who was determined to catch up with anyone and everyone in sight. Bill and Fleur had only left the week before, returning to their cottage by the sea.

Harry had frequently wondered whether so many people crammed into a single house was truly a recipe for healing or only further grief. Every time he passed someone, there was a reminder of who was not at the Burrow, but the kindness he received from everyone was making a strong argument the former. Their only salvation was time, it seemed, as each day proved to be less stoic and quiet than the last, if only just. Now, with a feast to be prepared, talking was not so easily avoided, and the simple act of speaking to each other swept away the gloom that had been so stalwart.

After hours of cooking and cleaning and a few late arrivals in the forms of Hagrid, Bill, and Fleur, Harry found himself to be enjoying the evening, a rarity of late. The Burrow had, for the first time in two weeks, erupted into laughter and cheer, and if the smile he wore was anything like the others, then they too, had had a cold warmed out of their bones.

Dinner was a heart-warming ruckus; toasts were made in excess that night as the bottles at the table never seemed to quite empty, almost as if refilling themselves by magic. The first toasts were to their fallen friends, all of whom were remembered with smiles for the first time that long summer. Eventually they moved on to praising the living, of which Hagrid made the most coherent, surprising everyone.

"To Harry Potter," was the first, made by Hagrid. "The Boy Who _Lives_."

Harry raised his own glass and replied, "There are a lot of people I owe a lot of things. So… to everyone who fought or helped. however they could."

The table beamed at Harry, who had flushed slightly, and decided the fire whisky had begun talking for him at this point. Nonetheless they raised their glasses and drained them without exception. Harry could see them all lost in thought, remembering acts of bravery or kindness or defiance in the war. It was while he was watching them all that Harry was seized by a desire he had never felt before in his life.

Maybe it was because the back of his mind told him to get used to doing it, or maybe because he knew his adventure had finally finished, and there would be exceptionally little to add to it from here on out. Deciding that it was most likely the fire whisky after all, Harry stood, and acted on the little voice in his head egging him on, telling him that tonight, it was okay to act on this whim. Because people had to know. And Severus Snape deserved more thanks than Harry, Ron and Hermione could give.

The Weasleys plus Hermione and Hagrid turned to look at Harry, still quiet from their reverie. "All of you," Harry began, "Have treated me as family, and all this time, I've kept my share of secrets from you, which I never liked. So I was wondering, if you would like to hear about… about what the three of us have been up to this year? I can't tell you all of it," he added quickly. "I think some of Voldemort's secrets are better off gone with him. But I'd like to… to… talk."

The last word came out awkwardly, as Harry wasn't quite sure what he'd have liked to do at that particular moment, but he took it as a good sign that about half the party had tears in their eyes. He looked back and forth between Ron, who was giving him a grin and a thumbs-up, and Hermione, who gave him that look of approval she saved for special occasions, tears already threatening to fall.

"I think… I'll start with the prophecy," Harry said with a soft smile. The room quieted even further. "It started when Professor Trelawney was doing an interview with Dumbledore."

And Harry told them. He told them about the prophecy that could have been Neville's, and that the only thing that gave it any credence was Voldemort choosing to believe it.

He told them how, because of his mother, he had survived the killing curse, and it was wonderful. He felt free, weightless, proud of his parents, of Dumbledore. Coming out on the other side of the war had made everything worth it, Harry realized. Everything to ever give him reason to doubt had become the things that were necessary for him to succeed. To live on.

Harry told them of Snape's change of allegiance, and of Dumbledore's brilliance in figuring out the mystery that was Tom Riddle. He told them, with help from Hermione and Ron, that Voldemort had, in a manner of speaking, put 'safeguards' around himself that needed to be destroyed first. He decided against telling the others what they were, or even that Voldemort's 'safeguards' were even physical objects.

"In your duel," Mr. Weasley interjected cautiously. "You said, "there are no more Horcruxes," did you not? Do not worry yourself Harry, I have never heard such a word, nor have I any intention to be enlightened. But these were what you were hunting down this last year? And however long before that?"

"Yes…." Harry said slowly. He had forgotten having said the word aloud. But then he thought of how much every single person had done for him, and proven again and again they were trustworthy. "Dumbledore had spent years trying to figure them out, and he worked out a plan for the three of us," he pointed to Hermione, and Ron, "to destroy them, and... put Voldemort on equal footing with any other witch or wizard."

"Oh Albus…." It was the first time Mrs. Weasley had spoken since Harry had stood what felt like hours ago. "I don't know what to say."

"He was brilliant," Harry said with a broad grin. "Had it all figured out, like I said in the Great Hall. His portrait was having Snape help us the whole time. Remember when Scrimgeour came to see us last summer? He was giving us what Dumbledore had left us in his will. Things he left us to finish off Voldemort."

"You'd think he was a Seer, that Dumbledore," Ron added, grinning. Harry grinned as well, remembering Ron's "ball of light" story. Hermione giggled opposite ron.

"If you'll grant me another question, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked. Harry wondered if the next was another secret accidentally spilled.

"You'd make a good Auror, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. "It's okay, I don't mind. But I get the feeling I've had far more to drink than you."

"Dad's got the tolerance of a troll," George said with very evident pride.

Mr. Weasley smiled and waved George's words aside. "You had Voldemort convinced you were dead, Harry. He claimed he killed you."

"That's not particularly a question, Mr. Weasley," Harry countered with a small smirk. He, at the very least, would not make it so easy for Mr. Weasley.

"You said that you'd meant to die, heaven forbid. Am I right in guessing you've survived another killing curse?"

Harry nodded, trying to hide the color rising in his face. Was he embarrassed about his own survival? "I'd tell you, but I don't want to give Mrs. Weasley another scare."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a very rosy smile, "You are sweet," she said. "But I have to admit, you tell a very good story, Harry. I'm... curious."

"You might not like it," Harry warned, leaning forward, onto the table. This proved to be a mistake, as shifting his weight had sent him off balance, and he had to make a very hard-earned recovery.

"We're not going to get another chance, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, an out-of-place perception in her voice. "I think we all know that."

"Go on, 'Rry," said Bill, who had not fared so well with the fire whisky. "We'll b'alright."

"I'd like t'know," Hagrid said louder than he probably meant. "I saw it happ'n, d—didn' I?"

Harry looked to Ron and Hermione, who both nodded, to his surprise. He looked at Ginny, who had long since succumbed to tears, and yet still managed to be so very pretty.

"I was one of Voldemort's safeguards. A Horcrux made by accident when he tried to kill me, and Dumbledore knew from the start. Voldemort had made me one of his own safeguards without knowing it. So when I learned this, I knew… I had to die. It was part of the plan. Dumbledore taught me a long time ago that there's a world of difference between being forced to walk a path, and acknowledging the path and walking down it yourself."

He was met with silence, paralyzed expressions, and wide eyes, and wondered whether they were regretting their decision. Harry continued. "So I chose to fight the only way I knew how anymore. I walked to the Forbidden Forest under my cloak, thinking about Dumbledore, who had... raised me to die. Raised me to die, and trusted me not to run away. And I didn't. My choice to die did what my mother had done for me almost seventeen years ago. Voldemort destroyed his own Horcrux instead of me, and a protection was put around all of the people who wanted to fight at Hogwarts. There were other complicated bits, but I think that's about the gist of it."

After a long silence, Mrs. Weasley said, "I think that's quite enough for now, Arthur."

"I quite agree," replied Mr. Weasley. He rose with a purpose Harry had never seen in Mr. Weasley before, standing opposite the long table to look him fiercely in the eyes. "To Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lives."

Harry bowed his head before he raised his glass once more, "To Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard I'll ever know. And to Severus Snape, the greatest wizard I never met."

The table drank for the umpteenth time, and they all rather clumsily got up to head to bed. Everyone gave Harry an individual and sincere "thank you," before leaving for their rooms. With the house less full than before, Harry had his own room to retire to.

Harry collapsed like a ruin onto his bed with a lighter heart than he'd ever known. This was his family. They were the people who accepted all of it and loved him for everything he'd done. Harry wasn't sure if it was possible to fall asleep smiling, but he was quite sure he would find out in a few minutes, as he could already feel sleep tugging at the corners of his thoughts.

While Harry debated back and forth in his head whether or not it would be worth the effort to get off his bed and take off his clothes, he heard a knock at his door. He very grudgingly rose from his bed and walked back across the room to answer. He had done no more than turn the knob before the door flung open to reveal Ginny, who crashed into Harry, locking her arms around him in a vice to rival one of Hagrid's embraces.

She said nothing, and Harry closed the door behind her before returning the embrace. They were locked together for some time, communicating only through tightening their grips, or rubbing a hand on the other's back. The room remained dark.

After a very long and wonderful time, Harry kissed the top of Ginny's head. She sniffled in response, refusing to let go. "Are you still crying?"

"Oh, shut up," she whispered, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "I'm allowed. Besides, no one could have... done all that and not need a hug afterwards."

Harry laughed and said, "Thank you." This was definitely the girl he was mad about. On a whim, he began rocking them back and forth on the spot, left and right, swaying side to side while they simply held on. After another spell, Ginny broke the silence.

"We've had a lot to drink," she whispered into his chest.

"We have."

"So I don't want to say something that… wouldn't have been brought out otherwise."

"Likewise," Harry said, playing with Ginny's hair between his fingers. "But I think that ship's already sailed for me."

Ginny giggled, a hoarse sound after all her tears. "Well mine starts with an 'L,'" she said, not much louder than a whisper. "And I'm thinking it very hard, Harry James Potter."

It did not take long for Harry to come to the same conclusion about her.

She had waited. Waited for the boy practically destined for death. And after all he had told, she had come straight to him, not lecturing or praising or questioning or demanding anything. She wanted to be what he needed her to be: there. It was a gesture he wanted reciprocate. "Right. Back. At you." Harry whispered.

Ginny looked up from his chest, and they kissed. A bliss that Harry had long ago prepared never again to experience—to lose himself in—washed over him instantly. Everything disappeared except for the searing heat wherever their skin touched, and the pull Harry felt drawing him, if possible, even closer to Ginny.

And then all of a sudden it stopped.

Harry glared down at Ginny trying to display his confusion as to why she had broken the kiss. She looked highly amused at his frown, but held a finger to her lips. She turned her head back to the door, and Harry noticed they had somehow moved, and now stood just beside his bed. He could almost hear it calling their names.

Ginny was immune to the siren that was his mattress, however, as she silently crept back to the door. She ruffled her hands violently through her hair, tussling it up far more than Harry had. She winked at Harry across the dark room and threw open the door.

In tumbled Ron, George, Charlie, and Bill, one after another onto the floor, forming a pile of swears and red hair. Ginny gave a satisfied "Hmph," and stepped over her brothers, giving them all a clear image of her ruffled hair as she returned to her room. Harry stood awkwardly by his bed, silent as the four brothers excused themselves with varying shades of red in their cheeks.

* * *

So there's the first chapter. It went somewhere I wasn't expecting it to, with opening Harry up like that. I hadn't really intended to write it, but after just finishing book 7 again, I think he would have indeed wanted people to know about Snape.

_anyways, hope you liked it._

**_please:_**

Let me know if I've got any plot holes staring you all in the face, **especially if Harry's little speech about walking to his death wasn't cannon or was just flat out wrong. I'd hate to mess that up. **

I'd love to get a review! especially if you didn't like it. I'm not used to writing cheesy stuff, after all, and I promise most of the rest of this fic won't be just a giant fluffball. well... no promises.

Thanks!

~Sam


	2. Loose End

A/N:

Wow! Look at how quick I updated!

Don't get used to it.

* * *

Hermione had been gone for a week. Exactly as long as she said she would. Ron had wanted to go with her, but Harry stopped him from ever asking aloud. She needed to bring her parents back the same way she had parted with them: by herself. Ginny agreed with Harry, but that didn't improve Ron's mood in Hermione's absence. He grew more concerned every day, and Harry wondered if he would wake one morning to find a note from Ron saying he'd gone after Hermione. Fortunately that had been avoided.

But they needn't have worried, as Hermione returned to the Burrow precisely on schedule, positively radiant walking into the sitting room to greet Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"Oh it was wonderful," she said, with a huge grin. "They were so happy to see me, so happy I'm safe."

"That's excellent," Ron said, crushing her in a hug. "Where are they now?"

"Back at home," Hermione said once free from the embrace, slightly flushed. "The memory charm came off in a snap—which makes me think I should've done a stronger one…. But we got to spend the whole week in Australia. It was so good to see them."

Harry took his turn hugging her. "I'm really happy for you, Hermione. Are you going to be staying with them for the summer?"

Ron shot Harry a look that made him regret saying it.

"Oh, I think I'll be back and forth," Hermione said. "I don't think they could quite picture Britain in open war… but they understood that… we lost friends… and family. I'd rather like to stay here for a while, if that's alright."

Ron put his arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You know you're always welcome here."

Hermione blushed, but was distracted from Ron when she saw something out the kitchen window. "Are those owls?"

And they were. Four large owls flew in through the window opened for them, and presented letters to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They were from Hogwarts. Harry wasted no time opening his letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We would be delighted to have you return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September for your seventh and final year of schooling. As the mandatory attendance policy has been dropped, you are free to remain unenrolled, but I would strongly encourage your return._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Minerva M. McGonagall,_

_Headmistress_

_P.S._

_If student life does not appeal to you, we would be glad to offer you the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Or if you are feeling particularly ambitious, Potter, we can offer you a Time-Turner if you wish to be both student and teacher. Please reply as soon as possible so we may fill our staffing gaps and prepare book lists for next term._

When Harry looked up from his letter, Ron and Hermione were looking at him, while Ginny continued reading her own letter with a look of dread.

"Well?" Ron asked. "Are you going back?"

"'Course I am," Harry grinned. "I don't suppose anyone else has been offered a teaching position?"

"What?" Ron and Ginny said together, staring at Harry.

Hermione gave a small smile. "They've asked if I'll teach Transfiguration. But I don't know, Harry."

"They're offering us time turners. You've used one for school before, how was that?"

"I used mine for a just a few classes," Hermione said. "Only a handful extra hours a week, and I was still tired. But teaching would be several more hours every day. Outside of the actual classes, we'd have to write lesson plans and grade assignments. We'd need extra time just to catch up on sleep."

"You can't just keep the job and ditch your other classes, can you?" Ron asked. "It's what I'd do."

"We can," Harry answered, assuming Hermione had been given the same option.

"But we won't," Hermione added firmly. "N.E.W.T.s are very important, _aren't they_, Harry?"

"Er—right," Harry said under Hermione's icy glare. "Well it sounds like a big fiasco waiting to happen. And I think I'd like a quiet school year for once. Especially come this time next year when we've got exams. I think I'm going to pass, Hermione, what about you?"

"I think that's wise," Hermione agreed. "We'll need all the time we can get for studying."

"What about you Ginny?" Harry asked. "You're awfully quiet. What's your letter say?"

"Exams," Ginny spat, staring contemptuously at her letter. "Ooh they're clever."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, as he began making his breakfast of cereal and toast.

_"In light of the sub-standard quality of education this past year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," _Ginny read in a mocking sneer_. "You are invited to repeat your sixth year starting next term. However, if you feel adequately prepared for your next year of magical study, you may attend the exam sessions to begin June the fifteenth_."

"So don't take the exam," Harry offered. "What's the problem?"

"I don't want to repeat a year, even if there are no Carrows at Hogwarts. I'll just be learning stuff I already know."

"Then take fhe efam," Ron said through a mouth of toast.

"It's not that simple, Ron," Hermione said, admirably ignoring his deplorable manners. "I bet all year she had classes suspended, or else she couldn't attend because of those vile punishments. It can only have been a very… spotty year. She can't be ready to just take the exam and do well."

Ginny gave Hermione a sympathetic look, "These two," she pointed to Harry and Ron. "Would be absolutely ruined without you, Hermione."

Ron shrugged and swallowed a spoonful of cereal. "Then we'll help you study. Come to think of it, did we ever take our sixth year exams?"

Harry thought about it. "No… I don't think we did," he laughed.

"We all started term with exams, since they didn't happen after Dumbledore's funeral."

"That felt like years ago," Harry and Ron said together.

"I should write McGonagall and tell her we need to take our exams as well."

"You'll do no such thing!" Ron exclaimed, getting to his feet. "If they've forgotten our transcripts, all the better."

Hermione seethed, taking time to think of a very strong-worded response when Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen, a wash load in her arms.

"Welcome back Hermione. All's well with your parents, I hope?" Hermione nodded and Mrs. Weasley smiled. "I'm happy to hear it. What've you got there?"

"Letters from school," Ginny said. "They're still going to hold exams in two weeks. It's criminal!"

"Of course they are," Mrs. Weasley said as if it were obvious. "You can't just take classes with nothing to show for them. Transcripts are what get you jobs, Ginny."

"It's a tease," Ginny said. "You can come back with no exams, but redo everything you did last year."

"Of course," Hermione said in the tone that signalled she had figured something out. "They haven't given the three of us exams because they don't know if we're coming back. As soon as they know, we'll get our own appointments, mark my words."

The soundness of this argument washed over Ron, leaving him horror-struck.

"Oh, you're going back!" Mrs. Weasley said with a very big smile. "Wonderful. I was afraid I'd have a job of forcing you."

"Exams," spat Ron, with the same expression as Ginny. "No school in a year and what do we get to come back to? Big fat tests."

Harry eyed his postscript again, now seriously considering taking the teaching job. But he imagined if he took it, Hermione might never speak to him again.

The four of them mailed back their replies and set about gathering their books. Hermione, as if she had been waiting a very long time to do it, conjured their sixth year books from Harry had no idea where. Ron, Ginny, and Harry wanted to enjoy one more spring day before buckling down to study, but Hermione and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't permit it.

"We're going to need all the time we can get," Hermione explained, as she set piles of books around the sitting room, which was to be used as their study hall. "It's been months since we've brewed a potion or done anything remotely like herbology."

"Yeah," Harry said a bit grumpily. "Too busy goofing off and laying about, weren't we?"

Ron and Ginny laughed, and Hermione took the hint. "I'll… I'll put some study breaks into the schedule then, shall I?"

After breakfast, the four of them at last settled down into their study session. They began with Transfiguration, spending a few hours reviewing theory and spells that had all become quite foreign to Harry in his time away from schoolwork. He had forgotten that he was supposed to be proficient at non-verbal spells, and was taken slightly aback when he found Ginny to be far better than him at them.

"We didn't have much choice," Ginny said. "Any magic outside class was banned, so if you wanted any practice you had two options: the Room of Requirement or get really good at hiding what you were doing. The DA was great practice, too."

Harry and Ron quickly discovered how far behind they were from the two girls they studied with. Hermione was her usual brilliant self, but it was rather odd for both of them to be outdone by Ginny, who reminded them once or twice that she was nearly seventeen, and they shouldn't be so surprised after a year without school.

"I think that's enough Transfiguration review," said Hermione well past one O'clock in the afternoon. "We can do potions next, but let's have lunch first."

This earned a delighted sigh from Ron, who stretched and yawned, glad to be rid of a purple mustache he had been trying to make brown on his face.

Harry was not looking forward to potions work. Having not brewed anything in months, he was sure he would be sorely out of practice. His last potions class had also turned into a mess, giving him even less reason to like the subject.

Then a thought popped into his head.

"Hermione, what do you reckon they're doing at Hogwarts right now?"

"This second?" Hermione asked. "Well, probably doing reconstruction. If not that, then recasting all the protections Voldemort broke through last year. Why?"

"So you think there are people there right now?" Harry asked.

"I suppose. Hagrid will be on the grounds, at the very least. But why?" she asked again.

"Snape's potion book," Harry said. "It'll be a load of help."

"It'll be on fire," Ron corrected. "Remember Crabbe?"

"Oh," Harry said, not having thought of this. "Right."

"Besides," Ginny said. "You wouldn't have it with you for the exam, so unless you wanted to memorize every single trick in that book, it wouldn't do you much good."

Feeling rather defeated, Harry gave up the idea. He had wanted very much to go back to the book. To have some connection with Snape.

* * *

Their next two weeks were spent mostly in the sitting room of the Burrow, interrupted by walks out in the garden, oddly numbered Quidditch games that often devolved into keep away, or trips to George's shop in Diagon Alley. Hermione alternated back and forth between her own home and the Burrow.

Harry found the first few days to be the hardest. The spells and theory work they had done so long ago seemed trapped in a fog in his head. He knew it was there, mostly, but he couldn't quite get to it.

But as their study sessions carried on, Harry found more and more coming back to him. When owls came for he, Ron, and Hermione a few days after they started, saying they would need to take their examinations with Ginny, Harry felt he was getting back in the swing of things.

George had been banned from the study room, as he was always ready with a comment about what nice weather they were having, or how he had managed to do just fine after dropping out of Hogwarts. Percy, who seemed unable to stop himself from giving them advice, was also less than welcome.

In short, it was not the way Harry had planned to spend the first part of his Voldemort-free life, but a little voice in his head needed only to remind him how much worse things could be. He had his friends and the closest thing to a family he'd known. He also had Ginny, which was particularly wonderful after a year of being her ex-boyfriend. They didn't have much time to themselves, but Harry didn't mind. They had a long summer headed their way, and for once in his life, all the time in the world.

Their exams came and went. Stressful as always, but Harry felt reasonably sure he would be allowed into the seventh-year curriculum. It had been a strange affair, seeing both his classmates and Ginny's all seated together for the tests. People threw him looks as usual, and the paintings at school were categorically gawky as always, but Harry didn't mind because he knew it was good things they were saying.

During their week of exams, it became apparent to Harry that there would be a space issue in his next term at the castle, because while he had seen very few Slytherins, all the other houses seemed to be overflowing with all the students who had withdrawn or disappeared or simply not completed their education in the last few years of turmoil. The fact that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were asked to apparate home after each exam instead of staying at school for the week was proof of the over-crowding. Ron had joked they might turn the Room of Requirement into a dormitory.

Hermione immediately had a long list of reasons why that wouldn't work, but Ron held hope for the idea.

His best friends were another thing that Harry was enjoying. Ron seemed to get that he and Hermione in Harry's eyes were rather like Harry and Ginny in Ron's, so he backed off on the public affection as best he could. Naturally there were slip ups, but this only meant Harry and Ginny were allowed them as well.

Harry had remembered thinking in his sixth year, so long ago, what would happen if Ron and Hermione got together, and he had to admit it was better than he had expected. They were learning, perhaps a little slowly, what buttons not to press, and how to have differing opinions without blowing up at each other. But what Harry was really grateful for, was that they hadn't left Harry on his own. They remained as much his friends as they had ever been.

With the exams over, the four of them began the waiting game as summer truly began in late June. They passed time however they pleased: lots of Quidditch, lots of time outside, and, for the first time in Harry's memory, lots of outings.

After meeting up at the end of their exams, Neville and Luna visited frequently, or else they would all gather in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade for an afternoon. Harry liked seeing them outside school, and he had a bet going on with Ginny and Ron how long it would be before Neville asked Luna out, or even, as Hermione suggested, Luna asked Neville.

The four or six of them would wander around the shops, lost in the ridiculous crowds that were also eager to be out and about after the war. Their group often found Weasley's Wizard Wheezes so packed that they didn't bother trying to get in. George had a new line of products that were specifically for celebrating Voldemort's demise, and he told them he kept running out of stock.

Many times they went into Quality Quidditch Supplies, much to the owner's pleasure. After some badgering as to what Harry was flying, and outright shock that Harry was currently without his own broom, the owner refused to let Harry leave without the newest Firebolt Mark Three, free of charge. After several heavily dropped hints from Ron, the shopkeeper had given him and Hermione each a Nimbus 2020, the newest in the Nimbus line. Hermione promptly gave hers to Ginny as soon as they left the shop.

New brooms had put the Burrow into a Quidditch frenzy and it was all anyone could talk about for a few days. Hermione did her best to ignore it, but it was no use, and she finally resorted to casting the muffliato charm on herself while the others were were within earshot so she could read in relative peace. Eventually they settled down while Harry's best summer by miles marched on.

Guests were becoming more and more frequent as June turned to July. Kingsley made it a point to have dinner with them once every week or two, as did other Order members, including a few of the Hogwarts Staff. Hagrid was a regular that Harry enjoyed talking to. He was trying to get the Forbidden Forest back to normal, and he insisted Grawp was getting on just fine in the cave outside Hogsmeade, "Bless 'im."

One evening even Professor McGonagall joined them for a meal, where she expressed how happy she was that they would be completing their educations. As glad as Harry was to see her, he expected she was there for a reason.

"Ah, yes," McGonagall said long after their dinner plates were all empty. "I have your exam results. All passing, as I knew you would, but here are the forms should you want the details."

She handed out sealed envelopes, and Harry watched Hermione strain herself not to glare at their new headmistress and tear the letter open as soon as she touched it. McGonagall seemed not to notice this, and said, "I must admit, I've missed you three trouble makers. Though," McGonagall added with one of her rare smiles, "Miss Ginevra here gave the lot of you a run for your money last year."

"I had a lot to live up to," Ginny said, slightly pink.

"Indeed. The four of you have always done right by your ideals, if not the written rules. And I think I've gone soft on you all for doing it." McGonagall blinked a few times to quell her watering eyes. "Very proud of all of you. Molly, I'd say you've done an excellent job on them."

"Oh, thank you Minerva," said Mrs. Weasley, also tearing up.

"Professor," Harry asked. "Who's going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year? And Transfiguration? It's going to be weird not having you teach us."

"I think I'll let that be a surprise for you lot. Ah, but that reminds me. Hermione, Ronald, would you like the posts of Head Girl and Boy?"

"No thank you," Ron said quickly. "I think we're trying for a quiet year, Professor."

"Ha," McGonagall laughed. "I'll believe it when I see it. And you, Hermione?"

"I'll do it," Hermione said. "If you think I'll do alright."

"Naturally. And you two," Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ginny. "Which of you will be captaining my—I mean, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team this year? "

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. "Do you want it?" Harry asked. "You were good with stuff like McLaggen."

"Nah. You were the only one who got that lummox," Ginny stuck her thumb out at Ron, who glared. "To be a decent flier. You take it, I'm not too interested."

Harry looked at her. "If you're sure. I'll do it then, Professor McGonagall."

"Excellent," she said. She smiled, "Then I must be off. Thank you again, Arthur, Molly, for having me tonight. I shall see you four in September."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand under the table. "We're in the same year."

* * *

The next morning featured the first excitement Harry had had all summer, and it quickly reminded him how glad he was to be rid of it all. A loud BANG outside his door startled him awake, sitting up at once, want pointed at the door, and scrambling to find his glasses with his free hand.

"Harry! Come out here!" shouted a voice from the hall. It took Harry a second to realize it was Hermione. Throwing off his blankets, Harry grabbed his glasses and opened the door to the hall, wand still raised.

"What—" it was all he had time to get out before he saw exactly what Hermione had called him for. Ron, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all came running to see what the commotion was.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, and half-shouted, "What are you doing in my house?"

"Hoping to get an interview. Harry, you wouldn't mind if we had a quick word, would you?" asked Rita Skeeter. She was being held by the collar by Hermione, her rhinestoned glasses quite askew.

A cold fury the likes of which he'd never known came over Harry like ice-water. "Since when?" he demanded, raising his wand and pressing it to her throat. Rita whimpered, but Harry ignored her. "Was it after Voldemort died? Or have you been at it ever since your last book came out?"

"Only the past—" she began, but Harry cut her off.

"Don't bother," he snarled. "I won't believe it anyway. You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Well it's too bad for you. I can't let you go running your mouth this time. Mr. Weasley, could you take us to the Ministry? Please? I'd like some Veritaserum. Or a very strong memory charm, whatever's easier."

"Not the Ministry," Rita pleaded. "You can't, Harry."

"You vile little insect," Hermione spat. Ron laughed at this, but no one else got the reference. "Did you just think we'd forget? I've been looking out for you ever since Bill and Fleur's wedding, where I thought I saw you. It's about time you slipped up."

"Erm," said Mr. Weasley, uncomfortable and confused. "Yes, I think I can get us to the Ministry, Harry."

"Harry, please," she begged. "How could you expect me to keep away? You're the story of the decade. Of the century!"

"AND I'VE GOT SECRETS TO KEEP!" Harry bellowed. The thought that this woman had been listening in on his conversations with Ron and Hermione, with Ginny, with the Weasleys on the night he got his Order of Merlin. Intruding on those times he had proven himself—_made_ himself—different than Voldemort by confiding in others; by trusting and letting people in. If those moments were tainted, defiled by this woman… he could not imagine.

"Harry," Ginny said quietly from behind Hermione. "You've got something in your eye, I think."

Harry blinked and his attention returned to the hallway full of people. His cheek felt hot, and he realized he was crying. "Yeah," Harry croaked. "Thanks."

Harry turned away, allowing Hermione to hold Rita at wandpoint. "I'm going to get dressed," Harry said. "Then it's off to the Ministry, Ms. Skeeter."

"You can't," Rita whispered. "I—I beg of you."

"I think Harry will show you the courtesies you seem to have given him," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'll take her downstairs, Hermione."

Harry shut the door and wiped the tears under his glasses. He dressed himself and met the others down in the kitchen. Hermione was eyeing the glass jar on the counter he knew held a beetle.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were looking at each other in disbelief, no doubt shocked to find the famous reporter an Animagus. Ginny sat waving her wand absent-mindedly in front of the jar, knowing she was putting Rita into a panic.

"I'm ready," Harry said, walking down the last few steps.

"Right," Mr. Weasley said. "I've sent a message to Kingsley that you're coming, and it's serious stuff. He's got a vial of Veritaserum ready for you in a holding room. I understand this isn't going to be a whole lot of fun, so let's get it done and out of the way, shall we?"

Harry nodded and walked over to the Weasley's fireplace after Ron and followed by Hermione, who had taken the jar. Harry stepped in once Ron, engulfed in green flame, disappeared. With his pinch of floo powder, Harry said clearly, "Ministry of Magic."

Swallowed in fire, everything around Harry spun while he was magically ferried to the main entrance of the Ministry. Harry stopped spinning inside another fireplace, this one marble and elegant, and stepped out to find Ron waiting for him.

"It's nice to be here with no Death Eaters firing away, don't you think?" Ron said, looking at the hall as if for the first time. From an elevator on the far side of the room emerged Kingsley Shacklebolt, meanwhile Hermione stepped out of the fireplace beside them, dusting herself off.

"Nice to see you three," Kingsley said, "I understand you'll be needing one of my holding rooms."

"We found an uninvited guest," Hermione said, holding up her jar. "Who may have overheard things we don't want floating around."

"A beetle?" Kingsley asked as Ginny appeared next in the fireplace.

"An Animagus. Unregistered," Ron said.

"Oh? Interesting."

"We've decided our friend's anonymity would be their reward for cooperation today," Harry explained, unable to look at Rita. "Of course, it may already be too late, and a memory charm might be needed."

"That's a very… potent sentencing, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, leading his wife from the fireplace.

"It's far better than she deserves," Hermione seethed, shaking the jar up and down. Hermione's viciousness left the Weasleys and Kingsley surprised. The absence of her level head seemed to convince them not to argue.

"Very well," Kingsley said. "I have no desire to be in your way, Harry. If you'll follow me, I've told everyone to give us some space."

Harry looked around and noticed that the large room they were in was in fact completely empty. "Thank you," Harry said. "I really appreciate all the privacy you've given me, Kingsley. I'd have never had any with another minister."

Kingsley smiled. "Harry, I think we'll be owing you favors for some time. This way, please."

The seven of them plus the beetle took the lift down several floors, and got off on a level Harry had never been to before. It was very dark, similar to the floor where trials were held. Harry wondered whether there were Dementors behind the doors they passed.

"Here we are," Kingsley said, stopping outside an unmarked black door, identical to all the others. "Will it be just you, Harry?"

"Ron and Hermione, as well," Harry answered. He gave an apologetic look to Ginny, who smiled, understanding.

"You have my permission to use the Imperius Curse if you're having difficulties with the Veritaserum."

"Kingsley," Mrs. Weasley said. "This is not a Death Eater. Is that really necessary?"

"I think it ought to be up to Harry, as only he will know how dangerous this eavesdropper really is." The Minister continued, "But know that any magic done will cease when you walk back out that door. If a memory charm is needed, we can have someone come and perform it, at which point, the person in that jar will be revealed anyway."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, and the door opened in front of them.

"You have one hour," Kingsley advised. They entered, and the door shut behind them.

The chamber they walked into was very bare. A single table, with a bottle of Veritaserum on it and chair just to its side. There were chains to keep the occupant seated. Hermione twisted the jar open and emptied it onto the table. The three of them pointed their wands at the bug, and it transformed into Rita Skeeter.

"I know, I know. Drink up and sit down," she huffed, unstopping the vial and downing it in one gulp. "You can spare me the scare tactics."

Ron went first. "What was Harry asked to do instead of returning to Hogwarts last year?" Ron asked. It was a good question, as Harry was never asked not to go back to school. It was something he decided on his own.

"I dunno, do I?" Rita said. "Would you like me to guess?"

"No," Harry said flatly.

"When did you start following Harry Potter?" Hermione demanded, not putting her wand down like Harry and Ron.

"After he had been chosen as the fourth Hogwarts Champion," Rita said. Her face was impassive.

Hermione looked satisfied with this answer, as if expecting it. "And the second time, after we spoke on the train from Hogwarts?"

"Eleven days after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, as soon as some of the protection around the Burrow was taken down."

"Did you overhear anything on the night Harry Potter received his Order of Merlin?"

"No. So you got one, then? And did your two tag-alongs get them as well, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. He was glad Hermione was doing the talking, he couldn't bear to look at her.

"Sorry love, it's in my nature," Rita said at the admirable look of loathing Hermione was giving her.

"What were you doing between the months of August and this past June?" Hermione asked.

"I was looking for you."

"Did you ever think you were close to finding us?" Ron said.

"Not once."

The questions continued like this for a few minutes until they had run out of ways to determine where Rita had been throughout the year. Satisfied they had not been followed, Harry asked his only question.

"How did I defeat Tom Riddle?"

"You claimed to be master of the Elder Wand, talked about death and sacrifice and protection, and fired a disarming spell at the Dark Lord. How on earth that overpowered the killing curse is beyond me."

"You don't sound like you were paying very close attention," Hermione said.

Rita was silent. "It's got to be a question, Hermione," Ron said. "Why don't you have a clearer understanding?"

This was the first time Rita looked like she didn't want to talk. She bit her lip so hard it bled. But the potion did it's job, and she spoke, venom in her words. "I thought I'd get it out of Harry Potter himself, in complete detail, through my own means of persuasion."

"Which were to be what?" Hermione demanded.

"Whatever I needed them to be. Eavesdropping, Veritaserum, the Confundus Charm, the Imperius Curse, blackmail."

"What progress have you made towards that end?"

"None," Rita snarled. "It's just been you and that other redhead living your dull teenaged lives. Not a mention of your adventures. Not. A. Word. School, sure, or Quidditch, why not? It's been driving me mad."

"Satisfied, Harry?"

"You know," Harry said. "I think I am."

"Let's say we let you go, and your name never reaches Ministry ears," Hermione said. "Under the condition, obviously, that you will never involve your career with Harry Potter again. Do you believe you would break such a deal if you could do it without being caught."

After and venomous silence, Rita said, "Yes."

"Such a shame," Hermione said in a tone hauntingly like Umbridge's. "I was afraid of this. It seems you're out of luck, as none of us know a charm to keep an Animagus out of our business. We'll need another person to do it for us. Which of course mean revealing your identity."

"Next time we get in a fight," Ron whispered to Harry. "Remind me to shut up."

Harry nodded.

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, Hermione opened the door. "Minister," she said out in the hall, "I'd like to introduce you to Rita Skeeter."

* * *

Rita Skeeter's exposure as an unregistered Animagus drew several days' worth of Prophet headlines, following her trial and sentencing to a stay in Azkaban. A memory charm was never needed, but Harry didn't like the idea of her snooping around again, so the Ministry had placed personal barriers around himself, Hermione, and the Weasleys to keep the woman at bay. Very much like a magical restraining order.

The Ministry, with their permission, reported that it had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had turned her in. It had been Ginny's suggestion to put their names in the report, "You know, to keep the other reporters and biographers away for a while. Get them all to think twice about you."

At this idea, Harry had stopped to look at Ginny. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

"I do. But I like hearing you say it."

* * *

A/N:

So there's chapter 2. A bit longer, at someone's request. Not quite back to school yet, but it's getting there. I think I'll have one more chapter of summer, but it could be less. We'll see. I've got birthday shenanigans to get through before September rolls around.

I know the story goes that Rowling says Rita Skeeter went off to write Harry's adventures in a book series for Muggles, but I hated that bitch so much that I kind of wanted to throw her in Azkaban anyway.

I hope you liked it. Don't expect these quick updates too often, I generally spend more time mapping out chapters, but this one came unusually easy to me.

Thanks all for the favorites and follows! But special thanks to the pair of you who reviewed! I'll reply to all reviews (unless you don't have an account... awk.) so maybe that'll be more incentive :D

**REVIEW! Please :)**

Did you like it? Love it? Hate it with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns? I won't know unless you **review. **

**Yes** I'm whoring myself out for reviews, and **No **it doesn't bother me.**  
**


	3. Birthdays

A/N: so here's chapter 3. huzzah and whatnot :P

This turned into a lot more fluff than I planned, but I'm sorry I'm not sorry.

* * *

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Harry looked away from the Snitch that had been flying in circles around the room. "I dunno," Harry shrugged. After a pause, he smiled at Ginny, "Last year's present was quite good. Another one of those, maybe?"

"Well I thought that was implied by now," Ginny said, leaning over to give him a kiss. "But really, what would you like?"

"Nothing," Harry persisted. "I think it should be a birthday-neutral year. Yours, Hermione's, and Ron's all passed last year without me getting to celebrate any of them. I think we should keep it a blank slate."

"Ha! I'd love to see mum's response to that. Come on Harry, don't be difficult."

"I'm serious," Harry said sternly. "Just a dinner with everyone. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with it" Ginny answered, rolling her eyes at him. "But it's not how friends do things, Harry. Or girlfriends," she added, before he could say anything.

"Well I can't think of anything."

"Nothing?" Ginny pressed. She slid her hand up his leg, looking straight into his eyes. "And you're sure about that?"

"Er," croaked Harry, "A few things come to mind."

"And?" Ginny batted her eyelashes. "I don't know legilimency, Harry. You've got to say it out loud."

"Well—"

"Oi!" Ron came thundering down the stairs to glare at Harry and Ginny. "Harry doesn't need any ideas from you floating around his head!"

Ginny glowered back at her brother. "Fine then. For _my_ birthday, Harry, I want to take you straight up to my room and—"

"SHUT IT!" Ron yelled, quite red in the face, though embarrassed or furious, Harry couldn't tell. "Or I'll have you disowned!"

Ginny roared with laughter and it became clear Ron's color was due to his discomfort. She climbed into Harry's lap and put an arm around his neck. "Is there a problem, dear brother?"

Harry's own face grew hot, and he mouthed "sorry" to Ron, but Ron had already retreated back up the stairs.

"Git," Ginny said, making herself comfortable. "As if he's not plotting his own progress with Hermione."

Harry winced his eyes shut and tried shut out the flood of images his mind imagined against his will.

"Oh not you as well!" Ginny gave an exasperated sigh, "I thought boys were supposed to talk about this stuff all the time."

"You've been misinformed," Harry said. "Sorely."

Ginny planted a kiss on his lips. "You still haven't told me what you'd like for your birthday."

Harry had no answer for Ginny, so he kissed her instead. She seemed to accept this as an acceptable alternative to birthday discussion, because the afternoon proceeded without another word on the subject of gift giving, or any other subject, for that matter.

July continued with everyone else at the Burrow refusing to allow Harry's birthday pass without event. There were talks of inviting all of the Order members, or several students from Hogwarts, or the lot of them going to a Quidditch match between the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies. Harry had to threaten them all with their own parties in return should they attempt anything more than a birthday dinner. To his relief, this got everyone to settle down a bit.

He knew his birthday celebrations wouldn't pass unacknowledged, however, and he had to make several secret visits to Diagon Alley to get gifts for all of the birthdays that were skipped while hunting Horcruxes.

When his birthday finally arrived at the end of July, Harry made sure everyone received something in return for their gifts to him:

When Mrs. Weasley woke Harry with a tray of pancakes, eggs, and sausage, Harry summoned Kreacher. "I'd like you to stay here, at the Burrow, from now on, Kreacher," Harry said. "Would that be alright with you?"

Kreacher then bowed to Harry and Mrs. Weasley, "Kreacher would be delighted to help those Master Harry calls friends. Where would you like me to start, Miss?"

Mrs. Weasley was too surprised to say anything. "I think the garden could use a de-gnoming, wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Weasley?"

"It is done, Miss," Kreacher said with another bow, before he disapparated from Harry's room.

Mrs. Weasley beamed at him with misty eyes. "Happy birthday, Harry. We'll see you downstairs, all right?"

"Mrs. Weasley left his room, dabbing at her eyes, and was immediately replaced by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all holding presents.

Ron tossed his package to Harry first when Harry had finished eating. He ripped off the wrapping to find a book. It was the continuation of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, old and tattered. "Happy birthday, mate. Of course, you'll have to share this year. Well go on, open it—from the back if you please."

Harry did as Ron said, flipping the back cover open. In the small, cramped handwriting knew only too well, read the words:

**_This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince_**

"Where on earth—?" Harry sputtered.

"You aren't the only one who knows how to sneak around, mate," Ron boasted, puffing his chest out. "I can be clever if I want to be. Suck into the castle and did a switch, like you did last year. I may have, ah, borrowed your cloak, though."

"It's yours if you've got any more tricks like this," Harry said, poring over the book like a reclaimed treasure. It was just like the old one, instructions written on every inch of white space, broken up by a few handmade spells. "I think I'll leave the spells alone this time, what do you think?"

They laughed, and Hermione handed her gift to Harry. "I couldn't think of what to get you, but I hope you like it."

Harry tore the paper off to find another book. This one was a biography, bound in a glossy wine-red leather, the pages all edged in gold.

_A Century of Extraordinary: A Study of the Great Albus Dumbledore's Life and Exploits_

"I thought you would like a version told by someone else," Hermione said. Harry looked up at her and grinned.

"I love it."

"Well," Ginny interjected. "I'd hate to break the streak, so… here you go."

She handed him a package that turned out to be another book. "_Tattoos: Everything You Need to Know about Making Yourself a Tapestry_," Harry read aloud, before bursting into laughter with Ron and Hermione. "I hadn't realized you were so serious about that Horntail, Ginny."

She laughed. "That's just something for you to open. Part two is later."

"Okay, thank you, we get it," Ron said, waving Ginny's words out of the air hastily. "You want to jump his bones. No need to shout about it."

"Thanks," Harry said. "For all of this. But I've got something for each of you as well." Harry set his tray of food on the bedside table and got up. He reached under his bed and pulled a pair of wrapped gifts, the smaller of which he gave to Ron, and the larger to Hermione. Ginny raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Happy eighteenth, to the pair of you."

"After you then," Ron said, looking at Hermione. She nodded, and unwrapped her gift. It was another book.

"It's… it's a history of goblin-wizard relations," Hermione said.

"As told," Harry finished for her, "By a goblin and wizard. Together. Unbiased."

"Oh, Harry, thank you," Hermione said. "That incident with Griphook never sat well with me."

"I guessed as much. I hope you like it."

"I used to think you lot were cool," Ginny said, frowning. "You used to get in trouble for sneaking out, and you fought monsters and Death Eaters. But here we are, sitting on a bed giving each other books. I might have picked the wrong friends."

"Har har," Harry said. "Fine, I'll do yours next."

"Oh? But I wasn't given anything," Ginny pointed out.

Harry ignored her and picked up his wand. He pointed it at her and waved, "_Aurum calefacio ego fantasio accipio._ There you go, happy birthday, a year late."

"Nothing's happened."

"Says you," Harry countered, putting his wand down. "I practiced that for weeks. You'll get your own part two on your real birthday in eleven days."

"Part one, part two," Ron drawled, mimicking gagging. "Honestly, I'm going to be sick."

"Go on, open yours then," Harry shot back. "That'll shut you up."

Ron tore the paper off his his fist-sized box. He pulled out a small slip of paper and read it. "'_This certificate will vouch for one visit's purchase of anything and everything you can fit in your pockets. Signed: George Weasley of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.'_" He looked at Harry. "It brilliant!"

"I know it is," Harry said. "He almost didn't give it to me. Said it went against his principles, letting you have free stuff."

"Thanks mate," Ron grinned.

The rest of Harry's birthday was pleasantly quiet. He got his wish of a simple birthday dinner, joined by Bill, Fleur, George (who had long since moved back into his flat) and Hagrid. Bill and Fleur brought Harry an enchanted emerald from one of Bill's tombs—supposedly it would tell its owner an unknowable secret when crushed. George gave him a small piece of ownership in his store, and Hagrid gave Harry an ancient bottle of mead.

"Save tha' for a special occasion," Hagrid advised. "Yeh won't regret it. Oh, and I almos' fergot! Dumbledore's wishes yeh 'appy birthday too!" Hagrid held out one of his monstrous hands, and a black box, no bigger than a grapefruit sat, plain and unmarked. Hagrid reached once more into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter. "Says t' read this first."

Harry accepted the letter and the black box with burning interest. What could dumbledore have left to give Harry? He'd given him the Snitch, the Resurrection Stone, the Sword of Gryffindor (sort of), and so much else, could there be any more? His thoughts went to the dozens of fragile instruments that always lined his shelves and desk, but Scrimgeour had said all that had been left to the school. What could it be?

Overcoming his curiosity, Harry pocketed both the sat-on letter and black box, deciding they deserved his private, undivided attention later.

One of Mrs. Weasley's wondrous dinners ended the day famously, leaving Harry with a full stomach and a warm tingle not unlike winning the Quidditch House Cup. When the festivities finally concluded, and everyone retired at last to their rooms, Harry shut himself in his room. He sat alone on his bed, his mind returning to the gift Dumbledore had given him.

He pulled out the letter and attempted to smoothe it out before reading. After little success, Harry gave up, and read the letter anyway, which was not in Dumbledore's slanting, thin handwriting Harry was all too familiar with. Even more puzzled, Harry opened the letter addressed to him.

_Dear Harry,_

_You are no doubt curious of the strangeness of the situation: me giving you a birthday present after so many opportunities whilst I was amongst the living, and how I could be doing so now while so far from conventional existence._

_I must confess, my death has made it far less criminal to display my horrifically inappropriate favoritism, and, no longer being headmaster, I feel no breach in the student-teacher relationship while I dote upon you. It is a bit less convenient, having a house elf as a scribe, but as they say, what can you do?_

_But onto that box I'm sure you're eager to open. It contains a phoenix egg, Harry. Fawkes' if I was to hazard a guess, though as we both know I have been wrong before. It has been given all it needs to survive in that box—namely intense and precise heat—for a very long time. It was delivered to Professor McGonagall's desk shortly after you left that office on the morning of your defeat of Voldemort. I thought it rather obvious that it was meant for you._

_I am aware, Harry, that you have lost your own companion, Hedwig, and I know what an ache that can leave in a person's heart. I also know that there will be no replacing that unfailing friend of yours, no matter how exceptional a partner this phoenix may prove to be._

_I therefore implore you, Harry, to open that box only when you have grown a rather strong desire for a lifelong friend. Maybe you'll open it now (or have already opened it, in which case, I wish you my congratulations) or perhaps in a few months, or several years, or perhaps not at all. If you wish that magnificent bird to go back to the wild, you must only ask it to, and the box will burn away, taking the egg back to its nest. Whatever your decision, think hard._

_I wish you a very happy birthday, Harry, wherever you are spending it and whomever you are spending it with. I think by now you'll have grown tired of hearing how fond I am of you, so I'll not reiterate. You are something extraordinary, Harry, and I will always be happy to chat with you, should you wish to visit my portrait._

_Yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry looked to his other hand and found the black box was already sitting in his open palm. He wasn't sure whether to open it or not. Then, glancing back at the letter, he knew that his uncertainty meant he shouldn't. Not now—his mokeskin pouch would be the best place for it. Harry rose from his bed and jumped about a foot into the air as he turned to see someone standing in his room, standing against his closed door.

"Took you long enough. Nice letter, I hope, if you're all teared up about it," Ginny said. Harry blinked and realized his eyes were overfull.

"From Dumbledore," Harry said thickly.

"Yeah," Ginny said, walking over to him. "Hagrid said that."

"He got a house elf to write it for him."

"Mhm," Ginny said, sliding her arms around him and kissing him deeply. Harry was glad for the distraction. He felt his weight fall onto Ginny's frame, against his will, but she didn't falter. She held him up while he nearly collapsed into her, stolen over by an exhaustion he hadn't felt in months. At last she broke the kiss and walked him over to the bed, taking the letter and box from him and setting them on his bedside table.

They both laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Talk," Ginny said simply.

"About the letter?"

"About anything. The letter, your favorite color, the best game of Quidditch you ever played. You've got to get something out of your system Harry. You're too full of stuff."

"Is that a medical term? Too full of stuff?"

Ginny laughed, and the bed shook a little. "Might be. Dumbledore had it from time to time. It's why he had the Pensieve."

"When did you see that?"

"I've spent my fair share of time in that office," she said. "I doubt as much as you, but enough to get a good look. What would you put into it?"

"I dunno," Harry said.

They laid in silence, staring up at the ceiling as if it would present them both with their answers.

"It'd be all that stuff about Voldemort, I think. I know it's important, but it'd be nice not to walk around with it all swirling around my head, you know?"

"Tell me instead then," Ginny offered conversationally.

Harry turned his head to look at her, and found her still looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah?"

Ginny seemed to find this rather amusing, but Harry didn't know why. Her hand reached over to hold his. "Yeah — if you want. I know you've got about a hundred reasons not to tell anyone, save Hermione and Ron. But if you want to talk about it… well, I've always wondered."

"You don't want to hear about the letter?"

Ginny looked over to him. "You've stopped crying. It's your choice, Potter."

Harry smiled, hoping to convey his thanks. "Get under the covers," he said finally, and he put out the lights with his wand. "I'll tell you about me and Voldemort if you tell me about _you_ and Voldemort."

Ginny kissed him on the cheek. "Is this the part where I find out the famous Harry Potter sleeps in the nude?"

Harry laughed, "Not quite."

They stayed up for several hours, talking in the dark. Harry felt strangely at ease despite the darkness of both their stories. Ginny had been thoroughly shocked to find out Riddle's diary was a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, a Horcrux. Shocked to find out Tom Riddle had torn his soul into so many pieces. She then proceeded to call Harry an idiot for wearing Slytherin's locket after knowing what the diary did to her.

She asked whether the Avada Kedavra would have done the job and saved them all of that trouble — or maybe a Dementor instead — and Harry had to rack his brains to remember what Hermione had said about the Horcrux being the opposite of a soul: Its existence tied to the object, only to be destroyed with it's physical vessel.

It was a long tale, the unabridged version of Harry's adventures with Ron and Hermione, but it was almost fun to open the lid on his box of secrets. It was rather enjoyable to watch Ginny connect the dots as he told her about the Horcruxes and Voldemort's past, about the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore's intricate plans for Voldemort's destruction. Harry felt, again, as if someone was removing stones that had been piled onto his chest.

Ginny relayed the same feeling after she finished her own story, no detail overlooked in her telling either.

"This can't have been what you had in mind when you were talking up my present earlier," Harry said after the two of them had been silent for a time. He knew she was as awake as he was.

"Not particularly," Ginny said. "But it's better, this way, isn't it? Getting through stuff? Besides, we're in the same bed and my by some miracle my entire family hasn't come barging through the door. That's pretty good, isn't it?"

"I'd say," Harry said, and he pulled Ginny against him. She was very warm, and her hair smelled of something flowery that he couldn't quite place.

* * *

Four more letters from Hogwarts arrived the next morning. Harry had awoken to find a note from Ginny sitting under his glasses.

_Snuck out early for fear of being seen and disowned. Last night was… well, you were there._

_-G_

Once dressed, and rather groggy after such a late night, Harry went downstairs to find himself under the knowing looks Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. He flushed, but they were both smiling slightly, and they said nothing. Ginny had yet to come down.

"Letter from school," Ron said, handing him an envelope. "Books and badges, just like old times."

Harry opened his letter to find Ron completely right. He'd been sent his booklist for a final year of study at Hogwarts, as well as a Quidditch Captain badge. Hermione had received her Head Girl badge, which Ron was looking over, as if he could still choose whether or not he wanted one. He must have decided he made the right choice, as he handed it back as if happy to be rid of it.

Harry looked over his book list in full and was quite glad to find the continuation of _Advanced Potion-Making_ on the list, knowing now for sure that he would be using Snape's old book again.

As Harry sat down to breakfast, Ginny came down the stairs and was handed her own letter under the same eyes of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. There was not the faintest shade of red in Ginny's face, and Harry wondered whether she was a better Gryffindor than he.

"Shall we go today?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "There's no reason not to."

The four of them shrugged, and after they finished breakfast, they flooed to Diagon Alley. It was the most laid-back trip they had ever taken — no run-ins with Malfoy, no sneaking off, and no overbearing security measures.

As had been the case all summer, Diagon Alley was packed, though this time heavily concentrated with students, meaning Harry recognized quite a few more faces. Unlike earlier visits to the wizarding marketplace, the atmosphere had a very focused buzz: Hogwarts.

Everyone was talking about the battle, the rebuilding, the Slytherin families, or simply their impatience to return. While waiting for Ron to be measured for his new robes, Seamus had found their group and they kicked back and forth about ideas for the new teachers. "If it's another crackpot, we'll just have to carry on the D.A., eh, Harry?" Seamus laughed. "They should've just saved themselves the trouble and given you the job!"

When their robes were done, they moved onto books, then school supplies. When the school shopping was done, they visited George in his shop, where Ron cashed in his birthday voucher. Before heading home, they sampled the pastries from Artopta's Tartlets, the new pastry shop occupying Florean Fortescue's old building. Harry was also glad to see that Ollivander had opened his store once again.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Ginny," Harry said, handing her a small box. He'd been trying all day to get her alone, but the large number of Weasleys who had shown up to celebrate were making it quite difficult. Harry had forgotten that Ginny was somewhat of an oddity in the family, being the only girl born into the line for a few generations. Her seventeenth birthday was a family affair.

But Harry's persistence had paid off, and after enduring an excruciating conversation with Ron's great aunt Muriel, he'd stolen Ginny away to his bedroom while the final dinner preparations were the center of attention.

Ginny took the box gingerly, as if whatever was inside it might break if she mishandled it. She undid the bow that kept it from opening and set it aside. Slowly, she opened the box and smiled.

"So you like it then?"

"I do," she said, looking intently at it.

"I wasn't sure whether it should be a necklace or a bracelet, so I got it long enough for you to double it around your wrist if you — "

"Oh, don't ruin it." She offered him the box and turned her back to him. "Put it on for me?"

Harry took the box, looking, for what felt like the hundredth time at the thin, fragile gold necklace that lay within. There was no pendant, nor any kind of decoration. It was simply a bare chain, connected in the tiniest, most delicate links he had ever seen. Harry pulled the chain out of the box and held a clasp in each hand. Slowly, he lowered it around her neck and she gasped under the necklace's touch.

"It's warm," she said, touching the chain with her fingers. "Almost… hot."

"Oh good," Harry said, connecting the clasps at the back of her neck. "I was never quite sure if it worked."

Ginny turned to face him. "Sure if what worked?"

"The spell I did on my birthday, remember?"

"What, you made the necklace warm?" Ginny asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Well sort of." Harry felt a blush creep into his face. "It gets warm when… well…."

"Spit it out, Potter," Ginny said, grinning mischievously. Harry had a feeling she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"It's an enchantment the jeweler gave me. I wasn't sure if it was… well, if it was too much, but I wanted to do it anyways." Harry took a breath, not daring to look Ginny in the eye. "Well, it's supposed to get warm when… when I'm… thinking about you."

Ginny's hand touched his chin and made him meet her fierce gaze.

"You're perfect, Harry Potter."

And before Harry knew it, his lips were on hers.

* * *

A/N: "You know one of these days I'm going to end a chapter without some horrifically cheesy moment between Harry and Ginny," he lied.

Oh well, I can only assume the people who don't like it are no longer reading this.

But really, this was the last summer chapter. Next comes the hogwarts express and *gasp* the return to school!

Let me know what you thought! Did you like the phoenix thing? Was it awful and cliché? Am I doing a horrible injustice to the Harry Potter universe? I won't know unless you tell me!

**I stole the necklace idea from another fanfic, btw. Just thought I'd put that out there. I tried looking for the link, but I guess it got taken down or moved or renamed in the seven years since I last read it. Or maybe I'm just misremembering. Point is, the corny necklace idea has been done before.

Leave a question/comment/concern in a **REVIEW **and I'll respond because I'm an attention seeking whore!

Also feedback is nice, and I like having a dialogue with my readers :)

Hope you enjoyed!

~Sam


	4. A Song for Slytherins

A/N: sorry this chapter took so long to post. I had finals and work and then more work and then got caught up at work. People spend money around christmas, apparently, so we got busy. Also I came up with a plot. So that took like another half hour or something.

****rant **

someone said in a review that the idea of Harry teaching was childish. Well I've got news for you: I'm a legal adult writing a headcanon for fictional characters I don't own who go to a magical castle school thing in Scotland. The entire idea is childish. Get used to it. This is a way for my adolescent brain to get things out of my system. It's a collection silly little ideas that I get to make more real by writing them down. You're reading my inner 9-year-old.

**endrant****

So chapter 4! Back to school! A few questions answered, I hope. And I'm proud to announce this chapter is less fluffy! Anyways, read on!

* * *

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley started, "A word?"

"But the train—" Harry was cut off as Mrs. Weasley steered him away from the group, behind one of the arches of King's Cross.

"Your present to Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. Harry swallowed and said nothing. "A simple piece of jewelry will always be appreciated, Harry, I don't think I need to tell you that. And I rather liked that yours was plain—no stone, no design. It was nice without being… overbearing. Or so I thought."

Harry thought he knew where this was going.

"Ginny's been sporting it wherever she goes, and that's very sweet, dear."

_Here it comes,_ Harry thought.

"But she can't keep her hands off the thing. Whatever she's doing, wherever she is, she's always got that chain wrapped around her finger," Mrs. Weasley pressed, lessening the already small distance between them. "Almost like something was drawing her to it."

"It's not dark magic or something!" Harry protested. But at that moment he knew he'd already said too much.

"But it is magic, Harry, isn't it?" Harry said nothing, so Mrs. Weasley continued, "You know that magic can't create love, I hope? That the closest thing a wizard can get to a love potion or an equivalent spell is simply an obsession?"

"I know that," Harry said, trying to keep his temper. "It was a love potion that got Ron poisoned, last year. You don't think I would… that I want Ginny to be obsessed with me?"

Mrs. Weasley gave him a sad look. "Of course not," she said unconvincingly. "But the way she fiddles with that chain, Harry… she looks obsessed."

Mrs. Weasley said it as if she was announcing a terminal illness.

Since he'd given the necklace to Ginny, Harry had been far too embarrassed to say anything about the enchantment, but he couldn't have Mrs. Weasley thinking he'd bewitched her. "It was something the salesman recommended," Harry began awkwardly. "The necklace gets warm whenever I'm... thinking about her."

Mrs. Weasley took a step back in surprise. "Oh… oh Harry, dear…." She gave him a hint of a smile. "That's… that's quite something."

"I've ruined it, haven't I?" Harry asked hopelessly. "I knew I should've asked Hermione what to give her."

Mrs. Weasley giggled. "No, no, you're fine, Harry. Haven't I just told you Ginny can't put the thing down? She loves it, I promise you. It's just… that sort of enchantment… usually people save it for an engagement ring. Or an anniversary present."

Harry looked at her in horror. "I've proposed. I've proposed to her!"

"Oh don't be silly, how were you to know? Honestly, that jeweler you saw ought to be sacked, giving that spell to a teenager. No, I can't imagine Ginny's taken it as anything more than you wanted it to be."

Harry sighed enormously as a kind of delirious relief swept over him. "Then does that mean you've…?"

Mrs. Weasley held up her wedding ring with a smile. "The charm still hasn't faded. Though I suspect that really Arthur just renews it every few years. It's quite a wonder, that spell."

Harry wondered what it would be like, knowing when Ginny had her mind on him. "I can imagine."

"Oh, what are we doing here, Harry, you're going to miss the train if you don't hurry up!"

Harry looked over his shoulder just as the Hogwarts Express spewed a burst of steam into the air and sounded its horn. Harry sprinted over to the train and onto the car where Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all sticking their heads out of the windows, shouting at him to hurry up.

From the steps onto train, Harry waved to the Weasleys who had come to see them off, along with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were rather teary as they waved Hermione off. Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley once more to see a very knowing twinkle in her eyes before the train rounded the corner and Platform 9¾ was lost behind them.

"You're welcome," Ron said, pointing at Harry as soon as he found their compartment, which was being shared with Neville and Luna. "I had to lug your trunk in as well while you were off chatting up my mum. What did she want? Telling us to stay out of trouble?"

"Something like that. Hey Neville, Luna," Harry said, taking the seat next to Ginny. Eager to change the subject, he asked, "Have a good end of summer?"

"Great," Luna said in her voice that seemed to float away on its own. "Daddy and I had a few trips up and down the countryside looking for all sorts of sun faeries and Lemi sprites."

Harry raised his eyebrows, never having heard these creatures in Luna's vocabulary before. "Oh?" he asked. "Any luck?"

"Loads," she said with a grin. "They were out and about all over the place with Voldemort gone. He had them scared into hiding, you see."

"Well they deserve to be celebrating like the rest of us, then," Ron said. "It's only fair."

Luna looked at Ron, trying to tell if he was teasing her or not. Harry turned to Neville. "And yours?"

"Alright," Neville shrugged. "Gran's been trying to get me in loads of Daily Prophet interviews and set me up with internships at the Ministry. She didn't want me to repeat this year, and wouldn't hear a word of it whenever I asked if I could. But all I had to do was fail my N.E.W.T.s and there wasn't much she could do about it."

"Show them what you got in the mail," Luna prompted.

Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out a shining badge Harry had seen Percy sporting so many years ago. "It came with my letter from school. I dunno what they're thinking, making me Head Boy. I thought one of you two would get it," he said, pointing to Harry or Ron.

"I think you earned it a dozen times over last year," Ginny said. "Well done, Neville."

Hermione smiled at him, "Congratulations, Neville."

"Yeah, cheers," Ron added. "Better you than anyone I can think of."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Try to keep us out of detentions."

"Like I would put you lot in detention. I can't wait to give Crabbe and Goyle a taste. And Malfoy, too if he shows his face."

"I don't expect they'll be at school this year," Hermione said, looking up from the book Harry had given her. "I'd be surprised if there were more than a handful of Slytherins around this year. At least in our age group anyways; there might be a few more first and second years, but I wouldn't bet on it."

"You think?" Harry asked, not daring to believe it until he had solid evidence.

Ron thought for a moment on this. "Malfoy had the Dark Mark, remember? He might even be serving a sentence."

"But he had it placed on him when he was sixteen, Ron," Hermione asked. "I can't imagine him in a cell with his father and all the other Death Eaters."

"I can dream, can't I?" Ron asked, and they laughed.

Most of the train ride was spent in peace. They talked about their holidays, what they had been reading in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, or about who they thought would be filling the open teaching positions. Eventually they began asking Neville about the schoolwork they would be doing.

"It's all complicated," Neville sighed. "I can tell you that much. Everything had levels to it. The enchantments in Charms were all multi-step spells. Herbology had spellwork on top of the usual stuff we did getting our hands dirty. The Carrows were teaching layered curses and barriers that would maim someone before it repelled them, so I assume we'll be learning the opposite in Defense: piling on defensive enchantments and the like."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Ron mused.

"It was," Neville laughed. "But I expect it'll go better this time around."

* * *

The train arrived at the Hogsmeade station shortly after nightfall as it had done for so many years before. The students flooded out of their cars abuzz with excitement, just as they always did. Hagrid said hello to his favorite students before leading the terrified first years into the boats that would take them across the lake, just like always. Yet for all the sameness and routine, something had changed. The balance of nerves and excitement had been thrown off. The atmosphere was completely different than it had been during the exams week in June.

Harry found the proof in the Thestrals.

Throngs of students were stopped dead, staring at the not-so-fleshy, winged horses, and refusing to get into the carriages. Harry heard whispers of revelation, as people began realizing what the creatures were and why they were suddenly visible. An uneasy silence quickly took hold of the crowd in force. Harry saw looks of mourning on almost everyone's faces, and he too, couldn't help but think of those lost in the war.

From what seemed like far away, someone said, "It's all right! Don't let them slow you up when we only just got back! We've all got to keep moving." It was Neville. He'd gone to the front of the line and begun helping a mortified student who—looked about twelve—into a carriage.

Hermione let out a small gasp and hurried after him. Ron followed her in turn, leaving Harry, Ginny and Luna somewhere in the middle of the sea of students. Whether it was what Neville had said, or rather just that the Head Boy had said it, or maybe because there were a few seventh years helping to move things along, the crowd got going again.

Harry, Ginny and Luna took their carriage up to the castle and were swept into the Great Hall by the flow of the other students. Luna broke off from them to make her way over to the Ravenclaw table, and Harry and Ginny took their place among the Gryffindors, albeit under the eyes of many.

After a few minutes, the students stopped pouring into the Great Hall, and Neville, Ron, and Hermione marked the last arrivals, and they took seats next to and across from Harry and Ginny.

The enchanted ceiling was starry and clear, as the sky had been outside, but Harry wondered if it was a bit more transparent than it had been in years past. He thought he could see some of the ceiling show through. He didn't have a chance to point out his observation, however, as the doors beside the staff table opened and in poured a line of first years and silence fell. Harry could only assume that since he could not see who was leading them, it had to be Professor Flitwick.

Repositioning himself for a better view, Harry saw the tiny Charms instructor bring the Sorting Hat out on its stool, setting it between the first years and the house tables. The silence grew rather intense as people waited for the hat to speak, and Harry took the opportunity to get a good look at his professors. He almost fell over when he saw Dumbledore seated next to Professor Slughorn.

But it wasn't _Albus_ Dumbledore, Harry realized, squinting to get a better look. It was Aberforth. Harry squeezed Ginny's hand under the table and jerked his head up to the table when she caught his eye. She did the same double take he did as she saw the white-haired, blue-eyed wizened old man at the table. She looked back to Harry, sharing the same look of disbelief. They kicked Ron and Hermione under the table, who were also staring in Aberforth Dumbledore's direction.

Their chance to discuss the development was stolen, however, as the Sorting Hat burst into song from its three-legged stool.

_The battle won this summer past!_

_That dark shadow departed!_

_Defeated now, at long, long last_

_A new era has started!_

_But new days ring of old times still_

_as we relearn old motions;_

_Quidditch, essays, faking ill_

_and things like brewing potions_

_The dying flames of love and hate_

_Have been given air to breathe_

_But rivalries of old can wait_

_I ask you to hear my plea!_

_In your minds I am sure to find_

_Fingers raised to point and blame_

_But a favor I ask of you this time:_

_To keep in mind this school's name!_

_Hogwarts! School of magic to all_

_Home to those who wish to learn_

_Friendship heats these old stone halls_

_A glow that warms but never burns!_

_Truly brave are those before you_

_Who return under great scorn:_

_They are not blind, they saw it too_

_The families left ripped and torn!_

_But here they are, inside these halls—_

_it's no longer us and them—_

_So trust me when I tell you all:_

_**WE**__ are glad to see His end._

_I'll say no more, my lecture through_

_Though not quite what you're used to_

_Say, "Wotcher," now, to students new_

_For I shall introduce you!_

It was the first time the the Sorting Hat had ever been met with silence. The Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor tables had all turned to stare at the Slytherins. Their long table less than half full, they were all clumped together, as if shielding themselves from the cold. Harry saw almost none of the Slytherins from his year. Hermione was right, Malfoy was gone; as were Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.

A great, thunderous clap rang out from the staff table, and several hundred heads snapped back to the front of the hall. Hagrid stood, towering over the other teachers, clapping his enormous hands together. McGonagall stood next and applauded as well. A few students began an unsure round applause while the entire staff table rose to its feet and applauded enthusiastically.

It took a few moments for them to get started, but eventually the students all clapped for the hat's song, though nowhere nearly as wholeheartedly as the professors, and with a distinct lack of cheering. Harry knew in the back of his mind that the Sorting Hat was right, and that besides Azkaban, there was probably no place less welcoming for the Slytherins than Hogwarts at that moment. It was very impressive for them to willingly submit to their peers, knowing how much damage had been done by the members of Slytherin.

All this Harry knew to be true, but it remained at the back of his mind. Because at the front appeared Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, and Malfoy. Harry wasn't holding his breath for the Slytherins.

It was Flitwick who broke the silence next, reading a name off the list of first years. "Alden, Elena," Flitwick squeaked.

A mortified girl with glasses and brown hair stepped forward slowly. Visibly trembling, she sat on the stool and clutched it so hard her knuckles were white. Flitwick lowered the hat onto her head and her eyes disappeared under the brim. After a few seconds of silence, the Sorting Hat bellowed, "_RAVENCLAW!_"

Cheering from the Ravenclaw table proceeded as the frightened little girl ran several steps before realizing she still had the hat on. Blushing furiously, she returned it and disappeared into an uproar of laughter and applause from Luna's table.

Harry used most of the sorting as an opportunity to stare at the Dumbledore different from the one he was used to. He looked politely content with the whole ceremony. Glad to be sitting up at that table if not euphoric about it like the rest of the staff. Harry suspected the other professors were excited about a return to normalcy—or as close to it as the castle would ever allow. He also wondered what the younger Dumbledore was thinking, what it was like for him to sit at that table in his brother's wake. Harry felt a wave of sympathy he was not expecting. Albus dumbledore had no doubt left the largest shoes anyone could possibly leave to fill.

When the sorting came to a close, and the hat taken once more from the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall rose. "I always thought Albus had the right idea in letting you all eat before trying to hold your attention. So without further ado," she raised her hand and more food than Harry had ever seen at a feast before appeared along the long house tables. "Have at it."

As soon as Harry caught the smell of the dozens of courses within arm's reach, he realized how hungry he was. He grabbed a plate and shoveled mashed potatoes and roast beef onto it, then he reached for a helping of steamed beans and a glass of a deep blue juice he'd never seen before.

"You'll take Ron out of top pig position if you can manage to eat all that and survive," Ginny observed.

"Be nice," Harry warned. "I don't talk with my mouth full, do I? I could be worse."

Ron glared at Harry, but chose to hold his tongue as it was impeded by far too much chicken pot pie. Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes while Ron and Harry wolfed down portions only teenaged boys could ever hope to keep down.

A little over an hour later, Harry and Ron were regretting their ambition for seconds of treacle tart when the plates all vanished as McGonagall rose and silence fell.

"Welcome and welcome back," she said, "To a Hogwarts of our own. The last several years have been rather… adventurous, I think I can say."

Harry snorted with most of the hall at this.

"I would hate to jinx it, but I am quite confident we're out of danger this year. We are without Dementors or Aurors at the gates, and, forgive me for stating the obvious, without the threat of Lord Voldemort. Our staff is once more made up of those appointed by myself, the other professors, and the Board of Governors. I don't think I need to name names we are glad to be rid of."

McGonagall's face grew a bit more stern as she continued. "I would like you all to take note that the mandatory attendance policy has been dropped. We are without many of our students, as I'm sure you all know. But many have come back to to Hogwarts in spite of that, all of their own accord. In short, all of us," she paused, looking down the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables, "Are here of our own accord."

Harry saw the three houses unanimously flush with guilt. He wasn't the only one who hadn't been thinking less-than-friendly thoughts to the green and silver house.

Professor McGonagall softened her gaze again. "That in mind," she sighed. "I think we're long overdue for a good year."

Harry laughed with the others, and McGonagall went on to announce new additions to Filch's banned object list and dates for Quidditch tryouts and so on. Harry made a note that he would have to schedule pitch times while he waited for what he really wanted to hear.

"Now," McGonagall said at last. "I would like to introduce our new member of staff, Aberforth Dumbledore, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Likewise, I'm sure you've noticed one less seat up here than usual." Harry hadn't noticed, but looking up at the table, they were in fact one chair short of the usual number. He couldn't remember this ever happening before, even when teachers had been absent from meals.

Professor McGonagall tried and failed to conceal a smile. "But you'll have to wait until you go to Transfiguration to find out why. Now, I think that's quite enough from me—goodness, Albus never said how tiring this was, and at his age, I can't imagine. Well off to bed then!"

Harry rose from the bench with Ginny, filled with a frustrated curiosity. Hermione and therefore Ron stood opposite them and headed off to lead the others to Gryffindor Tower with Neville.

"Well I wasn't too bothered by it before," he grumbled. "But now…."

"I know what you mean," Ginny said. "She did it on purpose."

"Want to swing by the classroom?" Harry asked. "We can peek inside."

Ginny nodded, and they easily disappeared from the crowd into a side hall that would lead to Professor McGonagall's old classroom.

They met no one on the way, but when they arrived, found the door to be locked. The Alohamora charm failed to grant them entrance, and after several minutes of other failed attempts at entry, Harry and Ginny trudged back up to Gryffindor tower, debating who their new teacher could be.

When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found Ron pacing back and forth. "Where have you two been? Off snogging in some corridor, have you?"

"Oh you know we don't need a corridor to do that, Ronald," Ginny said, demonstrating by giving Harry a wonderfully fierce kiss. "See? We went to try to get into the Transfiguration classroom, you shrew."

Ron stood immobilized. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Are you going to give us the password or not?"

After several dumbstruck blinks, Ron scowled at them. "Moderation," he snarled, as if proving a point.

Ginny gave the Fat Lady, who had thrown her hands over her ears, a sympathetic look. "Another long night with Violet, was it?"

"Oh, you know me too well, girl," the Fat Lady nodded. "Enter, enter. I'd give you a proper greeting if my head weren't pounding. Glad to have you back and all that. Now, off to bed with you."

* * *

A/N: So there's chapter 4. Sorry it was short and really horribly paced, I wanted to get something up rather than spend a few more days on it. Also, sorry about that hat song. I wanted to give some sympathy to the Slytherin house but that was the only way I could think to do it without having someone's bias show through.

Chapter 5 should be out should be out in a day or three and I promise it will be better than this mess. Ideally, anyway.

**So** the plot is going to start unfolding soon, meaning that all the happy good-timey feelsy stuff is going to get a wrench thrown in the gears. But since this fic is about exploration of the world rather than defeating villain or anything, **I figured I would open up the next one or two chapters to requests.** Have a scene you always pictured in your head? Have an idea about some unexplained phenomenon of the HP universe? Have a question about any of the numerous things I'm screwing up?

**Shoot me a pm** (I don't want it to be in the review section because then people might see it and be like "Oh he's going to do that!" and then I might end up not doing something and it'll just be weird... ) and I'll see what I can do to write it in. Keep in mind that scene is going to have to take place within the first few weeks of school.

I've never done an open invite for requests/suggestions, but I've liked the ideas people have mentioned in reviews, so I figured I'd give a try.

Hope you're still liking it! As always, I'd love a **review,** and I'll respond if you've got an account!


	5. Dumbledore

A/N: Sorry it's late. No excuse. Figure once-a-week updates from here on out, that way if I get them done faster it'll be a surprise.

So people have been requesting a Romione scene/chapter, and I'm working on it! I've never written from Ron or Hermione's POV, so it's very meandery right now. Lots of deleting stuff. It's getting there, though!

Anyways, behold the first day of class!

* * *

The next morning, they were to get their schedules from Aberforth, the new Head of Gryffindor House. Harry thought it odd that a new teacher would be the head of any house, but Hermione pointed out that there probably wasn't anyone else for the job.

"There aren't many others they could give it to," Hermione pointed out at breakfast. "The only other Gryffindor teacher I know of would be Hagrid, and… well…."

Hermione didn't need to finish her thought for Harry to imagine Hagrid giving him school and career advice at the start of each term, and how bizarre that would be. Aberforth would have to do.

One by one they lined up at the staff table after breakfast before Aberforth, who looked a lot like the students in that he wasn't used to being awake quite so early either. He said nothing when Harry approached, but instead looked at him, as if inspecting a purchase made on impulse. "Potter," he said slowly. "Here's your schedule."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, more stiffly than he intended. "If I might, ask, sir," Harry added before he was shooed away. "Why did you take the job?"

Aberforth eyed Harry once more, this time as if he were something between a puzzle and a piece of gum on his boot. "Call it... community service," he said at last, in a slow voce. When he didn't elaborate, Harry took his cue and retreated several steps while the others received their schedules.

Ron came over next to evaluate their workload this year. "Have you seen our Fridays? A double Charms session and that's it! Two hours with Flitwick and then we're free! It's practically a three-day weekend."

He was right. In addition to their three free periods every day, they had only three classes of Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms every week. Herbology and Potions, as usual were two double-period classes twice a week, leaving friday evenings free.

"Have you seen this schedule?" Ginny asked, coming over to check theirs. "If I didn't know any better I'd say they actually wanted us to get some sleep this year."

Ron frowned. "It'll be weird, having classes with you."

"All summer to meditate on that bit of trivia and _now_ you've got something to say about it?" Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, looks like we've got a free period now, then it's… Defense."

Harry nodded, checking his schedule. They had Transfiguration before lunch. He supposed he could wait that long.

"Well, I'm off to Arithmancy," Hermione said, hardly stopping at all on her way by. "I'll see you in a bit."

The three of them wished her luck before somewhat guiltily retreating back to Gryffindor Tower. They had the common room mostly to themselves for the hour, save for a pair of fourth years who appeared to be writing the charter for a new club. Ron and Harry settled into a game of exploding snap while Ginny fetched Arnold the Pygmy Puff. After a few rather dull games, they moved onto Quidditch talk, and Harry decided he ought to make a tryout schedule.

It was a rather slow hour, despite all this, however, as they were all rather anxious to get to class, curious to see what the younger Dumbledore had in store for them. Making no effort to hide their excitement, they left several minutes earlier than need be and made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

They entered the open door to find an empty classroom. They took seats at a table meant for four, leaving a place for Hermione, and looked to see the personal touches of Aberforth Dumbledore.

There were very few.

Most teachers, in Harry's opinion, decorated their classrooms in order to impress—to give students a dose of shock and awe—or at the very least in order to trick students into thinking their subject was interesting. Apart from the desks, lecture podium, and shelf of spare textbooks, Aberforth's classroom was occupied by only three paintings (none of which were enchanted to move) and the stuffed head of a warthog which hung from the center of the room where a chandelier might normally be.

The first painting was a landscape that spanned an entire wall. It depicted a grassy valley filled with wine-red smoke. The next was a goat, which took up a mere fraction of the opposite wall. And lastly, beside the goat, was a picture of a rather cute bunny investigating the horn of a sleeping dragon.

Harry's eyes found their way back to the landscape, trying to figure it out, but frankly it was disarming, as he kept expecting the red smoke to move—like it was waiting for him to turn away so it could swirl and plot.

"I've never seen anything like it," Herimone said beside them. Harry jumped at her voice, and turned to see her drop an enormous book bag with a sigh. "I can't decide if it's mist or smoke."

"I think it's smoke," Ginny said, the only one not startled by Hermione's appearance. Harry looked around to see a few other Gryffindors and a couple of DA members from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff taking seats and looking at the sprawling valley.

"I think you're right," Hermione said. "I'd hate to be caught in the middle of that."

"How was Arithmancy?" Ron asked.

"Oh," Hermione said slowly, "Alright, I suppose. "It was self study, and I wasn't expecting that, so we just sat and read, and asked questions we had."

"Sounds like Umbridge," Harry mused. "What did you do, then, assuming you've already read all our books?"

"No, it wasn't like Umbridge at all." Hermione said, "It was more like a study hall. I asked my questions and then started on homework."

"Good morning," Aberforth said, emerging at the front of the classroom. "Well well, today we all get to find out how I stack up against my famous brother, don't we? This ought to be good. I've seen the lot of you before, whether you know it or not. I've been the barman at the Hog's Head longer than any of you've been breathing. Apart from your little Dumbledore's Armpit club you started, you might have seen me last May when this one," he pointed casually at Harry, "caused a bit of a ruckus with the Dark Lord."

The class, _all_ former Defense Against the Dark Arts members, Harry noticed, stared at him, but he had endured far worse than the looks of appreciation they were giving him.

"Right then! Seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class," Aberforth said, leaning forward on his podium. His voice was loud and energetic, a far cry from the patient and composed manner his brother had spoken with. "Voldemort's gone! Defeated, as I'm sure you know, by the Disarming Charm you all learned before you were teenagers. So what now? After all, Undesirable Number One survived the better part of a year on the run from the combined might of the Dark Lord and the Ministry of Magic, and he did it without a seventh year of school. Surely another whole year of defensive magic is merely overkill?"

No one said anything.

"Is this class just the icing on the cake, then? All the little tricks you've seen mummy and daddy doing all these years? Sending a message with your patronus, that sort of thing?" Aberforth glanced down at them all with his intensely blue eyes, and Harry thought the younger Dumbledore had a rather good idea of what they were all thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione struggling to keep her hand out of the air.

Aberforth went on, "Of course not! You're smart enough to know that! And Patronus messages are something you'll learn in Charms, anyways. No, this class, like most of your others, will be focused on spells with multiple parts. Defensive charms with two functions. Protective enchantments that are conditional, that can determine between friend and foe!"

"Would that be like the Fideilius Charm, then, sir?" asked Dean Thomas. "Or… or would that be more of Charms, again?"

"Good question," Aberforth said sharply. "It was Thomas, wasn't it? That little nightmare of a spell is one of the most powerful enchantments a person can cast. As stated in its name, it's a charm, but the applications it has for protection are immense. I think it's fair to say we'll be spending a bit of time on the Fideilius Charm sometime after Christmas, if all goes according to schedule. I expect Professor Flitwick will have you study up on it too. Along that line, I think you'll find much of the material will overlap. Which is lucky for you, because this coursework is a headache, and—forgive me for insulting the lot of you on the first day—you're going to be glad to hear things explained more than once.

"So let's get started. We'll get to defensive spells and the like in due time, but we begin with enchantments. If you'll all open your books, you'll find Chapter One to be complete bollocks," Aberforth said, which earned a laugh. "So we'll start on Chapter Three: Enchanting Things That Are Worth Enchanting. Now, who can tell me the difference between enchanting a magical versus non-magical item?"

Her moment to shine having finally revealed itself, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione offered.

"Ah yes," Aberforth nodded. "I figured it better manners not to call you Potter Pal Number Two. Your answer then?"

"A magical object has its own properties to take into account when performing magic on it. If you want to protect something like a broom, for example, you need to also include the enchantments it has, not just the piece of wood itself."

"Well said," boomed the younger Dumbledore. "Hang on, I'm forgetting something… What was it. It was a… thing… a something, and McGonagall kept saying it was important…. Ah yes, points, the points! Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger! And you as well, Mr. Thomas, I liked your question.

"I hope you all were listening, because you'll need to get that bit of information stuck in your head if you want to pass any of your classes this year. Magical objects follow different rules than non-magical objects. Protecting an ordinary house, for example, is a far easier job than an old castle like this with moving staircases and its rooms that go disappearing and reappearing all willy-nilly. So we'll be starting with a rather basic enchantment and a basic object: protecting a piece of paper from fire. Oh, one more thing before we start! The difference between a charm and a true enchantment?"

This time Ginny raised her hand. "Ah, yes, Miss Weasley, glad to see you in good health. Go on, then!"

"A charm fades," Ginny said. Harry turned to look at her and, as if by direct result, her hand went absently to her necklace. "An enchantment is permanent, or close to it, if you know what you're doing."

"Precisely. So this exercise will not be a simple fireproofing spell, it will make your paper truly impervious to flame."

"Is there much point?" Ron asked. "I mean, if you know a charm to do the same thing as the enchantment, and you don't need whatever it is to be eternally bewitched, is there a difference?"

"Not in the slightest," Aberforth said. "Not now. But the paper is a first step. Start with a normal piece of parchment and work your way to, I don't know, a cursed artifact. Imagine that, then: turning something that's trying to kill you into a shield of your own. That's the difference between strong magic and weak magic. And I gather you've had your fair share of run-ins with the stronger kind, Potter Pal Number One?"

"Yes sir," Ron said, and Harry guessed he was thinking of a large locket with a snake on it.

"Then we start with the first enchantment. Repeat after me…."

At the end of the hour they left the classroom, already besieged with homework and reading to do. They had their fifteen-minute break period before Transfiguration, though they wasted no time setting off for their next classroom.

"What do you think, then?" Ginny asked as they walked the stone halls.

"I liked him," Ron said. "A bit eccentric, but he plays it well, y'know?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I liked him as well. I'd never put much thought into enchantments being any different than charms."

"Makes Flitwick's class seem a bit of a joke now, doesn't it?" Ron laughed.

"We'll be learning enchantments in Charms class as well," Hermione said as if this were obvious. "It's just a name for more powerful magic. Didn't Neville say it was all multifaceted magic? Spells with more than once part?"

Ron only grunted at this, distracted by the large crowd gathered in the hallway, made up of students of all years. "Oi!" he snapped. "What's happened? What's the holdup?"

Hermione was in the middle of puffing out her chest to make a declaration of her Head Girl status before Luna Lovegood drifted towards them. "Everyone wants to get a look at Dumbledore," she said lazily.

"Well they're about six floors off," Harry said. "He's down in the Defense classroom."

"Not him, silly," Luna giggled. "The Transfiguration teacher."

"What are you _talking_ ab—?" Ron was cut off by Harry, who had run in front of them.

"EXCUSE ME!" Harry bellowed. People seemed to recognize his voice, and most of the crowd seemed to turn to him. "I'd like to get through."

For the first time Harry knew of at Hogwarts, people's fascination with him had gotten him exactly what he wanted. The crowd silenced and split, leaving a lane for Harry, who wasted no time walking into the Transfiguration classroom.

There was a small handful of students all gathered at the front of the room, but no teacher. Harry walked up beside the group of sixth-years to see what they were looking at. It only took him a second to find what he was looking for.

Floor to ceiling, the four walls of the entire room had been covered in uninterrupted canvas. The wall painting, this one enchanted like most other Hogwarts art, was that of a patio, overlooking a field of wildflowers on a summer afternoon. There was an array of luxurious chairs on the patio, along with blackboard that stood next to the only person occupying the encompassing scene. It was Albus Dumbledore, sitting with his hands in his lap, fingers interlaced, and a knowing smile on his face.

"Professor," Harry said, staring.

"Good to see you as well, Harry," Dumbledore replied. He looked to the group of students he had been conversing with just before. "Would you kindly excuse us for a few moments? Ah, and try not to be late next time, Mr. Cunningham. I daresay you've been here long enough to know the ways to all your classes."

"Yes, sir," one of the boys said, turning red. "I won't be late again, sir."

Dumbledore smiled and the group of students left, closing the door behind them. "How are you Harry? If I'm right, you're coming from Aberforth's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson; what did you think?"

"I—well, I think he'll be alright. Sir, how—? Are… are you really going to be our teacher this year?"

"Would you rather I not? Would a more substantial instructor be better?"

"Of course not," Harry said, grinning in spite of himself. "It's just… wow. I don't know what to say."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "I'm rather looking forward to it myself. Did you enjoy your birthday, Harry? Hagrid delivered my message, I hope?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not quite sure what to do with himself. "Thank you, sir. I… I haven't opened it yet, if that's what you wanted to know."

"I would expect not," Dumbledore said, looking Harry over. "A phoenix is a very rare thing, Harry, and an egg even more elusive. Don't do it the disservice of forgetting about it. That egg deserves your thoughts at the very least, if you have not arrived at a decision yet."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore laughed. "Our lesson hasn't yet begun and here I am lecturing already. Forgive me, Harry, if I'm a bit out of practice; I haven't taught in a classroom for some time. Now I think you ought to go let the others in or they will guess that we have been up to more than just polite conversation."

Harry smiled and walked back to the door, letting the herd of students pour in and see for themselves. There were gasps and "ooh"s as people's eyes came to rest on their old Headmaster. By the time Ron, Hermione, and Ginny squeezed in, there were so many people that they couldn't see the front of the classroom.

Fortunately, the break period drew to an end, and the gawking teenagers were forced to leave for their next class. As the occupants dwindled to only the students who had Transfiguration that period, Harry took a seat as close to the front as he could get, and was joined by the others, along with Luna.

"Good morning everyone," Dumbledore beamed. "I'm afraid you haven't quite seen the last of me just yet. Even in death, I am hard to drive away from this school, it seems."

"Um, Professor Dumbledore, sir?" asked Michael Corner from a few tables away. "How will this work, exactly?"

"That is the hundred-galleon question, isn't it?" Dumbledore chuckled. "My generous painter has seen fit to give me a wand."

Dumbledore rose from his chair and pulled the Elder Wand wand from his robes. He waved it, and a piece of chalk floated into the air and drew a rather cartoony snake on the board painted beside him.

"As you can see, I am able to make demonstrations and give lectures while a house-elf by the name of Winky has kindly offered to act as my intermediary, inputting grades and marking assignments where I ask. If an emergency should happen to pop up, I think our Head Girl is aptly equipped to handle anything this school can throw at her."

Hermione blushed while people looked at her.

"But onto today's lesson," Dumbledore said, pacing in front of his blackboard. There was a spring in his step that Harry thought had not been there when he was alive. Or at least not when Harry knew him. "You have all transfigured animals in this class with Professor McGonagall, and even performed a few spells on each other as of last year. But excluding yourselves, if you had to summarize all of the different animals in one word, what might that be, I wonder?"

Harry thought on this. They had worked with a variety of species in Transfiguration class over the years. Toucans, mice, beetles, and everything inbetween. They were all alive, but Harry doubted that was the answer Dumbledore was looking for. He looked at Hermione, whose hand was already high in the air.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, "Ms. Lovegood."

"They've all been non-magical, Professor," Luna answered dreamily.

"Very good," Dumbledore nodded. "Take five points for Ravenclaw."

She was right. Nothing they had ever transfigured had been even slightly magical.

"As you may or may not have heard in other lessons this morning," Dumbledore explained, "Performing magic on the magical is rather tricky."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the snake drawn on the chalkboard, and it peeled off the black slate as a living, slithering snake, floating through the air, though still confined to Dumbledore's canvas. "Not so difficult to turn one thing into another and then change it back again."

The painting of their old headmaster waved his wand once again, and this time the snake turned into hummingbird that zigzagged around dumbledore's hat. "Nor will you break a sweat, I hope, in changing the transfigured into a third shape."

"But what happens, I wonder, if I were to change this into something a bit more… exciting? How about a unicorn?" The painting of Dumbledore waved its wand, but nothing happened to the hummingbird. He looked at the class expectantly. "Nothing! As you can see. But are there any guesses as to _why_?"

Unicorns were magical, that much was obvious. Harry tried to remember what Hermione said about magical things in their last class. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Harry?"

"You would have to… take into account all of the magical qualities of a unicorn?" Harry asked.

"Precisely! And there are far too many to use in an off-hand spell with a flick of the wand. Yes, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked when Hermione hadn't put down her hand.

"So, with your findings on dragon's blood, Professor, are you able to transfigure a dragon? Or… or maybe a phoenix?"

"Oho!" Dumbledore laughed. "Two very clever and very flattering guesses! But sadly I am not. Dragons have far more wonders than their blood, you see. Take their heartstrings found in wand cores, or their horns, or their fire breath for instance. And I would be astounded if anyone ever discovered _every_ secret a phoenix keeps.

"But now you must be wondering: if not magical creatures, what will be the subject of our studies this year? The answer is simple: magic. Spells."

The class was silent, but Dumbledore seemed to expect this. "I'll ask for a bit of help here. Professor Dippet, if you please!" Dumbledore called out into the field beyond his patio. A small, positively ancient wizard in an even more prominent hat than Dumbledore strode in, as if this were no more than part of his afternoon stroll. The two set themselves about twenty paces apart and bowed. It was a Wizard's Duel.

"After you, Professor," Dumbledore said.

"Ha. If you insist, Dumbledore. Are we putting on a show, or do you intend to explain as we go?"

"Oh, let's make it a fun start of term for them, shall we?"

Dippet nodded, and he twirled his wand with dazzling speed. Red smoke, like that in Aberforth's painting, shot out of Dippet's wand, charging Dumbledore as if a herd of monsters had begun a stampede. Dumbledore slashed his wand through the air and the smoke burst into flame, burning its way back towards the source at Dippet's wand tip.

Dippet countered by sending a jet of water towards Dumbledore, dousing the fire. The water turned into a javelin of ice as it sped through the air, but the younger headmaster flicked his wand as if it were the handle on a whip, and the spear of ice shattered and burst into a whistling steam, obstructing their views of each other.

The class, who had clear views of both men on either side of the vapor cloud, watched in awed silence.

Dumbledore's wand moved first, and lightning burst from the cloud of mist, but Dippet held out his own wand like a conductor, and it rebounded back into the steam where it disappeared completely. Dippet performed a dizzying wave of his wand and the steam was gone, replaced with a glass wall, tinted a deep green color.

Dumbledore studied the wall for what felt like an eternity while Dippet waited.

With a tired breath, Dumbledore summoned a knife and grabbed it with his free hand. He pocketed his wand, and Harry knew what was coming next. Dumbledore slid the knife along the palm of his hand, drawing blood. He flicked a few drops from the knife at the green glass wall and it rumbled before it slowly sank into the floor. Dippet stood on the other side, wand pointed at Dumbledore's heart.

"I am beaten, Professor Dippet," Dumbledore sighed. He set the knife down and pulled out his own wand, healing his cut. "That was clever of you."

"You abhor the Dark Drts, Albus," Dippet said. "I knew they were far from your thoughts in a practice duel."

"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed. Harry wondered if he had ever lost a duel before. "You're free to go, Professor. I think we've put on an adequate performance."

"I should hope so," Dippet said. "I'm not in the habit of showing off for students."

"Yes yes, thank you again," Dumbledore said, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance in his voice. Dippet seemed satisfied with this and took his leave, walking back into the wildflowers beyond the patio and disappearing from sight.

"Well," Dumbledore said brightly, "That was rather embarrassing. But I think you all got the gist of it. Transfiguring magic is what we shall be leanring, and it is certainly an odd area of study. As I said with magical creatures, magic performed on magic requires a very complete knowledge of what you are about to tamper with. But surely you can't know every enchantment around an object, or any spell an opponent might know? The trick, then, becomes getting magic to do what with you want without understanding every piece of it. And the only way to do that is to put your head down, and throw yourself at it."

After several moments of silence, Ginny said, "I don't understand, sir."

"Put simply, it is concentration," Dumbledore explained. "The magic surrounding an object present in a spell is very raw compared to that residing in a living thing. that it is, by comparison quite malleable, and therefore subject to transfiguring. Enchantments around objects can be changed in an instant just as my spells were moments ago, but try to take away a dragon's fire? Oh you'd need a very long time. It is an excruciatingly thorough process to change the nature of something both magical and alive."

"Is that why wands are so… weird?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself. "Because they're a mix? Alive and not at the same time: the core comes from a magical creature, and the wood, well…."

"That is what I myself believe," Dumbledore said. Then he added, "Though if you asked Mr. Ollivander, I expect he might have something quite different to say. Wands are quite the anomalies, as you know, Harry."  
The class looked at Harry, and he stared at his desk, not wanting to meet their eyes.

"But I think I've kept you long enough," Dumbledore said, calling attention back to him. "For Wednesday, I would like chapters one and two read, and ten inches of parchment, please, of a response on the idea of magic's malleability as explained by Piper Porrel. This is to be an opinionated response, if you please. If I receive a smattering of writings in complete agreement with Miss Porrel I cannot imagine how bored I will find myself. Enjoy your first day back! It was quite nice to see you all."

The class filed out into the hall, and Harry immediately turned to the others. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" he blurted out.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "But it looks like Transfiguration turned into Defense, and Defense turned into Charms. I wonder if flitwick will have us brewing potions tomorrow?"

"I hope not," Harry sighed. "Let's go eat, I've got too much stuff in my head right now."

"It strikes again," Ginny mused as her hand found his. "Too Full of Stuff claims another victim."

* * *

A/N: Ahhhhhhhh my head hurtsssssss

This chapter was fun, but damn if I'm not glad to be done with it. This is where I start doing actual worldbuilding and exploring ideas Rowling left open, so prepare yourselves. **Fortunately, **I don't expect the magical physics to be this intense ever again. I was just always curious about what they would study in their last year at school, and I figured now was the time to figure it out and write it down to kind of solidify where all of this was going and stuff. I hope it made sense. I wrote this between 4am and 9am so it's probably super awful. I'll look at this chapter again and if I don't like it I'll replace it tomorrow or something.

As I mentioned before, a Ron/Hermione scene is in the works! It'll come out as/with 6,7, or 8 I think. If you've got any other requests, lay them on me! Plot things will probably start turning up around chapter 7, so steady your hearts and make way for the journey ahead! (- whaaaaaaaat the hell? Did I just go William Wallace or some shit? I need to go to sleep.)

I hope you liked it! But more importantly I hope it made sense and I'm not delusional or just plain stupid. Unintelligence is my biggest fear.

Anyways, leave a review and I'll get back to you!


	6. A Letter

A/N: Here's chapter 6. A tad late, but to make up for it, Chapter 7 (the Romione chapter, FINALLY!) will be out early.

* * *

Their first week of class was throwing everything out of balance. With Neville's rather practiced hand in Herbology and Snape's old potions book, Herbology and Potions, were downright easy so far. But Harry hadn't felt so stuck with his wand since learning the Patronus Charm.

For the first time in Harry's Hogwarts career, spells had proven the more difficult part of his coursework while finishing homework and essays had been quick and painless. All of his writing assignments for Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms had been startlingly simple, while the spells they were asked to perform in class (granting miscellaneous school supplies eternal protection from the elements with Flitwick and Aberforth, and changing a partner's conjured red sparks into green ones for Albus) seemed miles out of reach.

Enchantments were excruciatingly precise pieces of spellwork, built on very long and very Latin incantations as well as wand motions far too exact for the seventh years' liking. Meanwhile the effort required for transfiguring another's spellwork made non-verbal spells seem rather like counting to three by comparison. The theory behind all of this new magic was nothing Harry couldn't understand, but when it came to performing any of the spellwork he was learning about, he fell spectacularly short.

But so did everyone else, which gave Harry a bit more pleasure than he would have liked to admit. Even Hermione was struggling, having failed to make her pencil case impervious to both water and fire by the end of their double Charms lesson Friday morning.

Despite the foul tempers and language that his seventh year class was poorly concealing, Flitwick seemed positively genial as he dismissed them for lunch. "Splendid, splendid work I'm seeing from you all. You've come quite far since we began on Tuesday, and I daresay we'll be ahead of schedule before long! Now don't forget that scroll on the decay rate of enchantments versus charms for Tuesday, and have a well earned first weekend!"

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna took seats along the Gryffindor table, all scowling at each other save for Neville, who was trying to reassure them. Even Luna seemed phased by their coursework, with a frown that was rather alien in contrast to her classic daydreamy glaze.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, pulling out their Charms book and prying it open to the chapter they were working on. "I've memorized the incantation—I'm sure my pronunciation's fine—and I'm quite confident in my wand motions. It's like my wand doesn't want to do the magic."

"It just takes practice," Neville said. He was the only one who had any sort of success, and earned them a few house points in their double Charms period. "Last year we all spent about two weeks grasping at straws for any kind of enchantment to work for us, but we couldn't get anything going for the first two weeks or so. Then they just sort of start working."

"But there has to be a reason why," Hermione said, brushing off Neville's words.

"Well search me," Neville shrugged, for a pair of turkey sandwiches. "But give it a bit and it'll kick in. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Well if that's your advice I'm taking it," Ron said brightly as he piled a few too many courses onto his plate. "It's our first weekend and we've already finished our homework, apart from Flitwick's scroll, anyway, and if that's anything like the rest of our other assignments, we'll be done in an hour. Two if we're unlucky."

"I'm with you," Ginny said. "It's only been a week and I'm dying to get some fresh air. Quidditch tryouts tomorrow will be a decent break."

Harry thought rather less fondly about the upcoming tryouts, but said nothing. Hermione muttered something about how they ought to be practicing the spells they were having so much trouble with. Ron silenced her by draping his arm around her shoulder. "Why don't we go see Hagrid this afternoon, after your Muggle Studies?"

Hermione lit up at this. "Oh, good idea, we've hardly seen him all week."

On the other side of the table, Ginny whispered to Harry, "How long do you think it took him to memorize her schedule? Two nights?"

"Nah," Harry whispered back. "I think he did it all in one go."

"That's enough out of you two," Ron snarled. Hermione blushed, but didn't retort while they all began their meals in earnest.

An hour later, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville went up to the Gryffindor common room while Hermione departed for her lesson and Luna left to go write to her father.

Like their other Enchantment-related studies, Flitwick's roll of parchment took less than the hour Hermione spent in Muggle Studies. They left their book bags in Gryffindor Tower and made for Hagrid's hut at around half-past one O'clock.

There was no response at Hagrid's door when they knocked, so the four of them proceeded down the path to where he normally taught classes. No luck there, either, so they walked down the dirt trail to the paddock Buckbeak had once been tethered to.

At last they saw Hagrid's towering figure, standing on the near side of the fense while talking with an equally tall figure on the other. It was a centaur, though not one Harry had seen before. A dark reddish coat, like wood stained with wine, and dark brown hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. He saw the four of them approach and turned to leave.

"Just remember, Hagrid, you would do well to take better care of your castle," he said.

"That'll do, Scorian," Hagrid said, shooing him away. The centaur trotted off into the forest, disappearing into the impenetrable darkness, and Hagrid turned to face them. "Alright, you four?" he asked, smiling. "How's class treatin' yeh?"

Harry grinned, "Could be worse. And you? What've you been up to?"

Hagrid laughed, "Oh, the usual, y'know. Spendin' time with Grawp when I can spare it, doin' lessons, helpin' t'rebuild."

"Is that what that centaur was talking about?" asked Ginny, "Rebuilding?"

"Yeah…" Hagrid said slowly and very unconvincingly. "Yeah, tha's it."

The four of them glared at him.

"Well don' look at me!" Hagrid said, throwing up his hands in defense. "The whole herd's been on and on about gaps in magical protection to the school ever since You-Know-Who broke through the defenses. I took 'em seriously the first few times they warned me, went straight to McGonagall with their concern. But she says we've got all the barriers t'keep out dark wizards up and goin' again."

Hagrid invited them into his hut where he served them tea and his famous rock cakes, which they all gnawed on politely. "Never thought I'd see both the Dumbledores teachin'," Hagrid laughed. "Wha's that like?"

Ron managed to choke down his bite of rock cake first. "They're both brilliant," he gasped. "And a bit mad, but they wouldn't be Dumbledores otherwise."

"Ah, true enough," Hagrid nodded. "But a portrait of Albus teachin' classes, who'd a' guessed?"

"I think it's brilliant," Ginny said. "I wonder whose idea that was?"

"I think Snape thought of it," Hagrid said, earning wide eyed stares from the four of them.

"_What?_" they demanded together.

"Oh yeah. It was jus' after your exams, see, and we were goin' over the list of people we'd offered the job to, includin' you, Hermione, and hadn't had a word back from anyone. Then Snape asked how quickly a canvas could be put up around a classroom. Said after all of Dumbledore's activity as a portrait so far, teaching didn't seem too far off. Then one thing led to another an' here we are."

Harry sat in silence with the others, trying to process this information. He supposed it made sense. Dumbledore had, after all, given Snape instructions throughout last year. He had made himself productive even in death. He imagined Dumbledore took to the idea with fervor.

"All right you four," Hagrid said, "You'd best be off for dinner. C'mon, I'll walk you up."

* * *

That evening after dinner, the Gryffindor common room was packed. Students eager to be done with class were lounging in every nook and cranny, and when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived, there was almost no space for them. Ron suggested they retreat to the Boy's Dormitory.

They gathered on Harry's and Ron's beds, sprawling out with leg room they had been denied in the common room. Hermione was sitting in Ron's lap while he propped himself up against his headboard. Ginny sat on the opposite Harry on his bed, tickling his feet with hers.

"You've got more beds as well," Hermione observed.

"A few," Harry answered. "More boys than usual in one year. It's not too cramped though. How about yours?"

"Too much estrogen," Ginny said darkly. "Present company excluded, obviously."

"No, I quite agree," Hermione said. "If they don't learn how go five minutes without talking their heads off, I'll put silencing charms on them."

"Would you please?" Ginny asked excitedly. "Either that or give them detention."

"I just might."

"You know Harry, I think we lucked out with our gender," Ron said, twirling one of Hermione's curls around his index finger.

"Truer words never spoken," Harry said sagely.

"What, being second best?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Definitely," said Harry and Ron together. Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes. Then Harry got up off his bed and walked over to his trunk.

"I keep forgetting to show you all this," he said over his shoulder as he rummaged through his things. After a minute, he turned around, holding a small black box. "My present from Dumbledore."

"Well what is it?" asked Ron.

"A phoenix egg." The others were silent in their shock, staring intently at the box Harry held. "Dumbledore said it was set to hatch once I open the box."

"And you've got it just sitting in a trunk?" Ron demanded. "Are you mental?"

"I don't really know what to do with it," Harry admitted, handing the box to Ginny to be passed around. She looked at it as if trying to figure out a Christmas gift before being allowed to unwrap it. "I haven't got need of anything like a phoenix. And it would be kind of degrading to use it as an owl, wouldn't it? Besides, I can borrow Pig, or one of the school's."

"And the egg is… healthy inside the box?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Dumbledore said it was. For years, it sounds like."

"It's not… it's not a replacement for Hedwig, is it?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"No," Harry said quickly. "Dumbledore knew better than that."

No one said any more, and the box was returned to Harry. They had no better answer than he did.

Their evening was resigned to lollygagging around Gryffindor Tower, back and forth between the common room and Boys' Dormitory based on available seating. They played Wizard's Chess and Exploding Snap, or exchanged thoughts on the tryouts to take place the next morning. At one point, a very squeaky second-year boy asked Harry to sign his Chocolate Frog Card. Harry thought this a very strange request until he looked down to the card to see himself staring back. He was so taken aback that he wound up spelling his name wrong out of sheer discomfort. This entertained Ron for the rest of the night.

At around eleven, the evening quieted and people turned in for bed, and Harry decided to follow suit, remembering how exhausting tryouts had been for him last year.

* * *

At half-past nine the next morning, in the cold that was somewhere between brisk and biting, Harry blew hard on a whistle. The substantial crowd quieted at once. Harry had hoped that the early(ish) hour (or at least the cold) would discourage anyone who wasn't serious about trying out, but the masses seemed resolute on making a show out of tryouts.

"Alright, alright," Harry roared over the throng. "Everyone take a lap around the pitch. If you don't make the whole lap, you can pack up and head back to the castle."

As it had two years ago, this exercise proved an excellent filter as less than half of the fliers only got to the far goal posts, and even fewer made it back to Harry.

After maybe fifty students had left the pitch in a mass of giggles, Harry began with the real tryouts. Remembering how it had gone the last time around, Harry tried the position of Keeper first, hoping to get it over with before the spectators filed into the stands.

But Ron was on good form for reasons Harry had no interest in discovering. He saved ten out of ten shots from Harry, Ginny, and Demelza Robins, whom Harry was very glad to see again, and touched down to a small but spirited chorus of Weasley is Our King from the stands.

Ginny and Demelza saw to the other Keepers, managing to score at least three apiece on the other applicants. Harry thought everyone was flying better than the last time he'd held trials. Maybe they were all a bit less worried about death or abducted family members.

Next Harry tried out the hopefuls for the Beater position and found Peakes and Coote to be better than he'd left them. Peakes' flying was sharper than Harry remembered, and Coote had filled out a bit over the past year. They needed only an hour to separate themselves from the others and secure their spots on the team.

Tapping his wand on a nasty lump that had risen on his right shin, Harry called the Beater tryouts to a close and moved onto Chasers.

"Listen up, because I'm tired of shouting and I'm only going to say it once," he hollered. "You'll group into threes and fly a weave up the pitch and a clockwise rotation on the way back. If I like what I see, you'll be asked to say for the second round."

The twenty remaining applicants grouped into threes, leaving one group of two giggling girls open for Harry to fill. Harry gave Ginny (who paired with Demelza and a very competent looking fifth year girl) a pleading look but she simply laughed and kicked off with her group.

The two girls with Harry knew how to fly at least, but that only made the experience worse as he had to make the whole lap with their unyielding laughter that raked over his ears like metal. He watched the other triplets flying their weaves and rotations with envy. Even the poor fliers in the other groups had managed to get the giggles out of their systems. But nearly two hours in and these two fourth years were still going strong.

"Sorry you two," Harry said to the girls, rubbing his temples. They had finally finished their snail's pace lap, giving Harry more than enough time to see all of the other fliers. "Maybe next year."

They left the pitch with the other rejected hopefuls in a final fit of giggles while Ginny and Ron roared with laughter.

"Right," Harry sighed, counting those remaining. "You… twelve: in the air, with me. You'll have a scramble of six on six. We'll play half-pitch, no Keeper, but we'll have Bludgers, too, I think. Coote! Peakes!"

Harry waved his Beaters and resumed his instructions. "You'll go for an hour straight, the team in possession will clear the Quaffle to the halfway mark on the pitch and turn around. Ron will tend goal, and the Beaters will be going after the offense for the first half hour and defense for the second half hour. Any questions?"

No one spoke but about half of them looked baffled.

"It's just half-court," Ginny said. "With big teams, that's all! If a Bludger so happens to be hurtling towards your face, then just get out of the way."

"Thanks," Harry said. "But switch teams. You _and_ Demelza isn't fair."

Ginny made a face, but did as he asked "Spoilsport."

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked off, followed by Ron and the Beaters, then the twelve Chaser applicants.

Harry flew up above the others and found their numbers on his clipboard. The first few minutes were rather hectic and unproductive. Ginny and Demelza defended each other and managed to only score twice and once respectively, while the others were rather occupied by the sheer number of bodies and the Bludgers barreling through the swarm of them.

Fifteen minutes later, however, most of them had adjusted and were flying in one rhythm or other. Ginny and Demelza stood out, as Harry had expected, but a few others were attracting his attention as well.

A half hour into the match, Harry started seeing some plays being made and people changing up their defensive coverage. By now he was keeping his eyes on Number Three, a third-year girl named Amelia Prent who had flew with quite the flare. She always seemed to be occupied by two defenders, leaving another teammate open. Another standout was Number Nine, a sixth-year boy by the name of Jeremy Fletcher who was the only new face who could give or receive any leading passes, all of which (after considerable set up on Tintop's part) led to goals scored.

Ginny was the lead scorer by far, and her spot on the team secure, but Harry reckoned that without her prior experience, Demelza might have been in trouble. She proved herself, however, in the second half of the match, speeding up her own pace when the others began to wear out.

The hour came to a close and they returned to the ground, all breathing hard save for Harry. "Well that went better than I expected, actually," Harry mused. "Ginny, Demelza, you're both on the team. Now for the last spot, I'd like to have a one-on-one match, between Amelia Prent and Jeremy Fletcher, please."

The pair of them stepped forward from the group. "More flying?" Amelia panted. "After all that?"

"That wasn't much flying," Harry said. He pretended to write something down on his clipboard and Amelia flushed red. "No Keeper, no Beaters. You'll use the full pitch this time. I think you're both flying Cleansweeps, so it should be fair game. First one to score five goals wins."

Without another word of protest the pair of them mounted their brooms and rose into the air, with a bit more effort than before. "I'm sorry to the rest of you, but the last spot will be going to one of them. Thanks for coming out, all of you, this was a lot more fun than last time."

With rather unpleasant looks, the eight rejected Gryffindors trudged off the field, their shoulders slumped with apparent exhaustion.

When Amelia and Jeremy began their match, Harry motioned for Ginny and Demelza to follow him into the air, and they did so without complaint.

"What do you two think?" Harry asked lowly, so as not to distract the two remaining prospects.

"I like Amelia," Ginny said. "She draws defenders like a veela draws boys."

"But you weren't getting any of Jeremy's passes, he was on my team," Demelza countered. Amelia scored the first goal and Ginny raised an eyebrow at Demelza but she pressed on, "Besides, there are only three Chasers per team in a real match, anyway."

Ginny took this into consideration and watched Jeremy make a breakaway and fly up the pitch unopposed to score his own goal. "True. And if our Beaters are doing their jobs, we won't need her to draw people off us, I suppose."

"So we're going with Jeremy, then?" Harry asked.

"What about their match?" Demelza asked.

Harry blew his whistle, signaling Amelia and Jeremy over to them. The two of them obliged, but looked confused and nervous, as if they were about to be scolded for something.

"I've decided on Jeremy," Harry announced. Jeremy threw his fist into the air and Amelia looked absolutely crushed.

"But—" Amelia faltered. "But, but you said the first one to five wins, and we've only scored once each!"

"I didn't say the winner would get the spot though," Harry replied, slightly guilty. "You flew really well, Amelia. If we need a substitute—and given this team's history, we will—you'll be the first on the list."

Amelia nodded with a sniffle. Her eyes were watering. "Okay," she said weakly. Ginny went over to her and they flew down to the pitch, leaving Harry to induct Jeremy with Demelza.

"Congratulations, Jeremy," Harry said. "You've earned it."

"Thank you," Jeremy said, grinning. "When do we start practice?"

"Not for a few weeks," Harry said as they began their descent. "Our first match isn't until Halloween."

The three of them touched down on the pitch to meet Ron, Ginny, Peakes and Coote, who were all catching up. "Jeremy Fletcher," Harry presented. "Our newest Chaser."

The team clapped for him and Jeremy blushed a little. "We're in for a good year," Harry said. "I can feel it."

"Just try to stay out of detention, this time, _Captain_," Ginny said, throwing an elbow to Harry's ribs.

"No promises," Harry grinned.

"Not bad, I have to say," a voice said behind them. Harry turned to see Aberforth walking towards them. "Our headmistress may or may not have informed me of the House Cup's tendency to shine a bit brighter under Gryffindor's colors than the other houses'. So I think you'd best keep that cup right where it is. I'm rather a sucker for aesthetics, you see. Old age and whatnot."

"Yes sir, Professor Dumbledore," Ron said in salute.

"Good lad," Aberforth said. "Now, refresh my memory, I haven't watched a Quidditch match in a century: what on earth are those big hoops for?"

* * *

That evening, Harry went to bed quite early. He'd shouted himself hoarse and was a bit sore, spending so much time on a broom for the first time in a few weeks. When he got to his bed, however, he was denied sleep by a letter addressed to him. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but he opened it anyways, assuming it might be from Dumbledore. It wasn't.

_Mr. Harry Potter,_

_I would very much like to talk with you. Dobby had something he wanted to give you, but he never had the chance. If you would come to the Come and Go room around midnight tomorrow night, a door will appear for you, sir, and I shall pass on Dobby's gift to you._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Winky the house-elf_

* * *

A/N: so they're back at school and stuff.

Not much to say on this chapter. The quidditch stuff went on a bit longer than I planned, but it was really fun so you're stuck with it I guess.

R/H chapter coming next!

Hope you liked it! Reviews are always appreciated!


	7. An Afternoon

A/N: At long last, a terrible Romione scene!

* * *

Ron left the changing room at the Quidditch pitch and found himself engulfed in a sea of bushy brown hair as arms squeezed around his waist. "Oh well done!" Hermione squealed from somewhere underneath all that hair.

"Thanks," Ron answered, hugging Hermione back. God she smells wonderful. And I probably stink after all that flying. I should probably take a bath.

Despite Ron's self-awareness of his own… fragrance, Hermione clung to him like glue as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. She was amazing like that.

After a quick bath, Ron descended to the common room, which was deserted save for Hermione curled up in one of the over-stuffed armchairs, reading the Daily Prophet that had arrived at breakfast. Despite all news being good news since Voldemort had been finished, she read it religiously, keeping tabs on everyone and everything.

"Even on a Saturday?" Ron laughed as he sat down in the chair opposite hers. She looked up with a smirk.

"Is it bothering you?"

"What on earth could you possibly do that would ever bother me?" Ron asked, feigning offense.

"I was under the impression the list was rather long," Hermione shot back with a grin. "They've found a pair of Death Eaters who were abroad."

"Excellent," Ron said, stretching. It was nice to sit down after playing Keeper for two teams for an hour straight. "What's their story?"

Every Death Eater found since Voldemort's defeat had been taken to trial, where they would make up some sob story about why they were forced into the ranks to save their families or some such nonsense. Ron and Hermione had made a habit out of exchanging stories they'd heard about or read in the papers.

Adopting a theatrical voice, Hermione read, "_'Brokers and I had been taken from our holding cells under Malfoy Manor, and they sent us to Albania, where we were put under the Imperius Curse and forced to wait for a sign of the Dark Lord's return. The Dark Marks were branded onto us for means for means of communication.'_"

Ron laughed at this, "That one's not bad," he said thoughtfully. "They got the messaging right, anyways. Did it do them any good?"

Hermione was smiling as well. "Life in Azkaban."

"Excellent," Ron said cheerfully. "How many is that now, somewhere around forty?"

"I think so," Hermione said, skimming over the article once more. "Well good riddance, anyway."

"Come sit over here with me," Ron said suddenly. He wanted to play with her hair.

She looked him over, and Ron had the idea that she had guessed at the nature of his request. "That's a small chair, Ron."

"We've done smaller than this," Ron countered. Hermione blushed, but she stood nonetheless and came over to sit on his lap. "Where are Harry and Ginny? It's so quiet in here."

"Well I expect most people are outside while it's still warm. Harry and Ginny went for a walk, I think," Hermione said, settling in.

"Ah…. Well," Ron sighed, "At least they're private." He found a rather curly bit of Hermione's hair and threaded it through his fingers, twirling it opposite it's natural direction.

"What do you think of them?" Hermione asked, taking Ron by surprise. She'd never really talked about the idea of Harry and Ginny together. At least not with him.

"What brought this on?"

"You never talk about them," Hermione said. "I'm curious."

"Well it's weird," Ron said simply. "My best mate and my little sister."

Hermione turned her head to look him in the eye. Their noses were nearly touching. "But…?" she pressed.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. He stole a kiss while her eyes were still on his, which earned him a jab in the gut. Worth it. "I expect it's the same thing he sees when he looks at us. Ginny too, as far as that goes. What am I supposed to think? I just try not to picture anything."

Hermione said nothing as she faced forward again. She thought on this for several minutes, leaving Ron in a rather uncomfortable silence that was making him a bit hot in the face. "I think they're good for each other," she said at last.

Ron heaved a huge sigh. "Is that all you were looking for? Yeah, they get on alright. It's not exactly how I spend my free time though, evaluating their relationship. I'd rather spend time with you."

"Oh stop it," Hermione said quickly, her cheeks a shade redder.

"Stop what?" Ron asked. His arms snaked around Hermione's waist and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"Ronald, stop it!" she squeaked, somewhere between a shout and a giggle. "If someone walks in and sees the Head Girl snogging—"

She was cut off as the portrait hole swung open to reveal Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan having an argument. They seemed too focused on each other to notice Ron and Hermione.

"If I hear another word about Ginny or Quidditch or Harry Potter, I'll hex you into next week!" Seamus said flatly as he stormed across the common room. "You were on the run from Death Eaters! With goblins! Merlin, you'd think you'd have something better to talk about than your ex-girlfriend."

"You—!" Dean shouted, trailing after him. "What do you want me to say? That I see them every day, that I share a dormitory with him and it doesn't bother me!"

"I don't care what you say so long as you say it to someone else!" Seamus yelled back as he reached the stairs. "Move on with your life already! You're a bloody teenager, not some star-crossed Prince Charming who has to slay a dragon to save the fair lady!"

"Harry fought a dragon," Dean said with a sudden realization. "D'you think that would—"

He was cut off by an infuriated sigh from Seamus as their conversation trailed off up the stairs. Ron bit his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter. Hermione glared at him.

"It's not funny," Hermione scolded.

"You're wrong," Ron said simply, trying desperately to hold back his urge to guffaw. "It's hilarious."

"It's not!" Hermione insisted. "Ginny says every time she looks at him he gives her this tortured look that makes her feel guilty!"

As Ron's giggles died at last, he said, "Well that's what happens, isn't it? Things end; then it gets awkward. I dunno what I'd do if I saw Lavender—bless her for passing her N.E.W.T.s—and Harry and Cho went the same way, didn't they? And remember me when I saw you and Krum at the ball? Teenagers don't handle things well."

"But it's been over a year, Ron!"

"Well maybe that's just Dean," Ron shrugged. "Boys fall hard. It's what we do. It takes us a while to shake things off. I'm not saying girls don't, it's just… I feel like it happens to boys a lot."

"Is that right?" Hermione asked with a very sudden sharpness to her voice. "And how does your relationship with Lavender fit into this grand theory of yours?"

"Oh I did that because I was jealous," Ron said, waving it away. "It doesn't count."

"Well I don't think Lavender would like to hear that," Hermione said. The venom in her words was receding, replaced by a much more concerning tone of seriousness. "It certainly counted for her."

"What was McLaggen all about, then?" Ron asked. Hermione didn't answer. "I think for something to work out you have to like the other person about as much as they like you."

Hermione snorted. "And where did that jewel of wisdom come from?"

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron said. Hermione gave him a look that melted him inside.

"We've both been rather petty," Hermione said. "Haven't we?"

"Well… maybe a bit. It worked out for us though, didn't it?"

"That's horrible, Ron."

"Probably is," Ron agreed. He kissed her neck again. "You smell nice, Hermione. Have I told you?"

"Frequently, Ronald."

* * *

A/N: so there's that.

Sorry it's short. It's hard for me to write Ron and Hermione. Though I expect I'll throw a few more of these in throughout the story. It was a good change of pace.

I really hope you liked it. It was inspired by a few conversations I've had with friends, so it might be less than fluffy.

Next chapter should be out on Thursday.


	8. Intruder

A/N: Chapter 8! I give you plot!

* * *

The next evening, after everyone had gone to bed, Harry took out his invisibility cloak for the first time in months. He snuck down to the common room after nearly everyone had gone to bed. A pair of sixth years were still awake working on essays by the fireplace, but Harry managed to get by unnoticed—though only just. He'd nearly tripped over a book someone had left out on the floor. Harry's sneaking skills felt rather out of practice.

But he got out into the corridors unobserved and made his way to the seventh floor and approached the large stone wall. Harry checked the watch Mrs. Weasley had given him last year and it read one minute to midnight.

Harry waited with bated breath. He checked the letter again, as if presenting the writing to the Room of Requirement would make it reveal itself.

Midnight came and went without the faintest hint of a door appearing. After five minutes of stagnant silence, Harry began pacing in front of the wall. _I need you to bring me to the house-elf inside,_ he thought as he made the three passes. No door.

_I need to see Winky the house-elf,_ thought Harry. The wall adamantly remained stone. For the next half hour, Harry tried everything he could think of, but had as much success as when trying to discover Malfoy in his sixth year.

But it should have worked, shouldn't it? Before he was an undesired guest. This time he had been expected. Someone was waiting there to meet him. He'd been asked to come, so the room should have made itself apparent, like it had for D.A. members over the years. Harry didn't understand.

It was nearly one in the morning when Harry got back to his bed. He spent another half hour thinking frustrated thoughts before he finally fell asleep, no closer to understanding what had gone wrong.

* * *

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry told the others about the letter, and the appointment he missed at the Room of Requirement. They were supposed to be making compasses out of needles, having them point north via magic rather than magnetism. Aberforth had finished making rounds to help with the enchantment and was sitting at his desk while they practiced the spell on their own.

"Do you mind if I read the letter?" Hermione asked. She had just cast the Muffliato Charm.

"Sure," Harry shrugged. He knew she was going to check the instructions, to look for something Harry had misinterpreted, but he didn't mind. His curiosity was more pressing than his pride at the moment. He handed the letter to Hermione, who read and reread it several times.

"And you even tried making the door appear yourself?" Hermione asked. She handed back the letter from Winky, having found nothing satisfactory in it.

"For half an hour. You were in and out of it all last year, Ginny," Harry said, turning to her. "Any ideas?"

"None," Ginny said, looking up in thought. "I mean none of us have tried using it otherwise, so maybe the room just… changed. With Voldemort breaking down all of the magical protection and everything. Maybe the castle works differently now."

"I don't think so," Hermione said after thinking this over.

"Me neither," Ginny shrugged, "But it's all I've got. You lot were always sneaking around, you'll have better guesses than me."

"We should try," Ron grunted, jabbing his wand at his silver needle. "Using the room for something else. To see if it works the way it used to. Then we'll know if it's the room or the user who's got the problem."

"I don't see why not," Hermione nodded.

"Winky's a house-elf, right?" Ginny asked. "Why don't you just go see her in the kitchens? You know how to get in, right?"

Harry hadn't thought of this. Why hadn't he just gone to the kitchens last night? "Good idea," Harry said. He gave his needle another go and after reciting the rather lengthy incantation and with the accompanying flourish of his wand, he thought he saw the silver thing wobble. It was more than he was expecting, at least. "Let's go during lunch."

"You want us to come with you?" Hermione asked. "But you went alone last night."

"We'll just stop in and ask what happened. Besides, you two were there when Dobby... passed."

Ron and Hermione looked uncertain, and Ginny wore a stony expression. They really didn't want to go.

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll go by myself. True Gryffindors, the three of you, really."

They said nothing, and returned to their would-be compasses. By the end of the lesson, both Ron and Harry's had swiveled, and Hermione's downright pointed. It was more south-west than north, but she was rather pleased with the result, earning a full ten points from Aberforth.

"Good on you, Miss Granger," he said, clapping his hands together. "I expect you'll have this one down pat by next week."

This didn't seem to cheer Hermione up as they headed for Transfiguration, where the portrait Dumbledore had one person conjure water with the Aguamenti Charm and then another try to turn it to ice. It was partner work as usual, but Harry didn't mind. Enchantments weren't the only thing he was making progress in, it seemed, as by the end of their lesson, he'd made Ginny's water almost cold.

At lunch, and to Harry's slight irritation, the others made him go to the kitchens by himself, wanting to give Harry and Winky their privacy. Harry was looking forward to their meeting much less than he had been the night before, remembering how Winky had been during previous visits. Harry took the legibility of the handwriting to be a good sign, but he was growing rather nervous as he made his way downward, below the Great Hall.

When he arrived at the large painting of a bowl of fruit, Harry tickled the pear. A brass doorknob appeared and Harry opened the door that popped up with it.

It had been a long time since Harry had been in the kitchens. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was like sticking his face over a boiling pot of a stew that seemed to be made up of every delicious thing he had ever eaten before. Not having had lunch yet, Harry realized how hungry he was.

Immediately, a pair of elves came and bowed to Harry. "A guest!" squeaked the one on the left. "Wonderful! What might we be helping you with, sir?"

"I'm… looking for Winky," Harry said, fighting the urge to sit at the under-Gryffindor table and ask for lunch. The two elves exchanged a look. This was not unlike the last time Harry had come looking for her.

"She is finishing the Hufflepuff's last course of dessert at the moment," one of the elves said, finally. A little hesitant, it added, "We can take you to her, if you desire."

Harry thought this over, wondering if it was better to talk to Winky while her attention was on the dessert. "I can wait. She won't be long, will she?"

"Only a few minutes, sir," the house elf said with a bow. "Is there anything we can help you with while you wait?"

Harry eyed some of the platters on the tables. "Can I sit?" he asked. The elves nodded vigorously, and Harry took a seat at the under-Gryffindor table and helped himself to a plate of lasagna which hadn't made it up to the Great Hall, and some steamed vegetables within arm's reach.

Halfway through his lasagna, someone tapped Harry on his shoulder, and Harry turned to see Winky. She still wore the clothes that Mr. Crouch had freed her with, but she looked better than the last time Harry had seen her.

"Hello Winky," Harry said. The house elf gave a small bow.

"It is good to see you again, Mr. Potter, sir," Winky said politely.

"Er—you too. Is everything okay, Winky?"

Winky cocked her head to the side, with a rather confused look. "Yes, Mr. Potter, sir. Winky has been staying out of trouble here in the kitchens, and she has even begun cooking with the other elves. It is very kind of you to come see Winky after all of this time, Mr. Potter, sir. Winky is not knowing what she has done to deserve this kindness, but it is very kind of you to come and visit, Mr. Potter, sir."

"Well I came to talk about your letter, actually" Harry said. "The one you left on my bed on Saturday."

Winky cocked her head in the other direction, looking even more confused. "Letter? A letter to you, sir? I have not written one since Mr. Professor Dumbledore asked me to write one over the summer, sir."

Harry didn't understand. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to her. "What about this?"

Winky read the letter several times. "Winky has not written this, Mr. Potter sir!" she exclaimed, looking up at him. Her eyes were watering, already threatening to spill tears down her face. "Someone has been copying Winky's writing, they have! Winky does not remember writing this, Winky swears! And Winky has been remembering everything she has b-been d-d-doing for—" she hiccuped a sob, "—four hundred and thirty-two days! Winky has not been writing letters and f-forgetting them! And now Winky is looking like she has lied to Mr. Harry Potter!"

She was bawling by this point, and Harry, rather unsure of how to calm her, put his hand on her shoulder, which certainly shocked her into silence. "It's alright," Harry urged her. "Honest, it is. I believe you, Winky. If you say you didn't write it, then you didn't write it."

Winky sniffled rather shakily as her sobs quieted. "B-But then who has b-been writing in Winky's name?"

"I dunno," Harry sad, staring at the letter clutched in the house-elf's hands. "But I'd like to find out."

Winky wiped her eyes and handed the letter back to Harry. "How is Mr. Potter planning to be doing that, sir?"

"Haven't a clue."

* * *

"Winky didn't write you that letter?" Hermione repeated, horror-struck. Ron and Ginny were about as surprised as Harry had been, but Hermione looked like someone had just committed murder.

"That's what she says. And it sounds like she's been relatively sober for over a year, so I don't think she's just gone and forgotten," Harry explained. He'd run up to the seventh floor corridor to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They had been trying their hand at the Room of Requirement and had no trouble gaining access.

"Well that's odd, isn't it?" Ron said, scratching his chin. "Why would someone do that?"

"You mean try to get Harry Potter _alone_ and off his guard? Oh only a thousand reasons, Ron!" Hermione snapped. Ron shot her a look that was asking what he'd done to deserve such a response.

"But who do we know that knew about Harry's connection to Dobby?" Ginny asked. "I mean, wasn't he there with you at Malfoy Manor?"

"My point exactly," Hermione said quickly. She frowned in thought, clearly not liking any of her answers. "Whoever they are, they're inside the school," she said cryptically.

"Aberforth!" Ron said at once. "He knew about Dobby, said he even liked the elf. It would make sense—if they had been talking to each other last year—that Aberforth has something Dobby left behind for Harry, would it?"

"Why wouldn't he just give it to me after one of our lessons?" Harry asked.

"Even more concerning would be the need to impersonate a house elf. I know he's a bit funny, but Aberforth isn't exactly secretive, is he?" Ginny asked.

"Guess not," Ron said, defeated.

"I think you're in danger, Harry," Hermione said. "Someone knowing about your connection to Dobby and Winky? That's quite an insight. We should take this to McGonagall."

"I don't think so," Harry said, going over the situation in his mind. "Why didn't they try to do anything to me when they left the letter? It's not like anyone else was around at the time. And then there was the half hour I spent here out in the open, they had me to themselves."

"Didn't Voldemort show you that some people like to make a big show of their triumphs?" Hermione asked, as if Harry was a child. "You're famous, Harry. If anything happened to you it would be a huge ordeal. Whoever this is, they're probably waiting for an opportunity that suits them better."

"Which would be what?" Harry asked with a laugh. "More attention or less attention?"

"I don't know," Hermione said desperately. "But you've got to take this more seriously, Harry!"

"I'm not putting the school in a state of panic because someone's forged a letter!" Harry shot back. "It's ridiculous."

"It's not," Ginny said. She was holding on to her necklace. "Hermione's right, Harry. If you won't go to McGonagall, I will. Right now."

Harry looked back and forth between Ginny and Hermione. Ron's expression was blank, which Harry found rather unhelpful. "You're joking."

"Harry," Hermione pressed, looking almost frightened at this point. "The only people who could assume that Dobby would leave something to give you and _then _guess that Winky could be the one to give it to you are the three of us and Winky herself. Ginny wouldn't even know!"

Ginny nodded at this. "Who's Winky, anyways?"

"Crouch's old house-elf," Ron answered. "She looked after Jr. after he'd been snuck out of Azkaban. Then Crouch Sr. sacked her when he found out his son fired off the Dark Mark at the World Cup. But that was four years ago, and the last time we ever spoke to Winky was during that same year at school. Hermione's right, Harry, this is… weird. It looks like someone was trying to get you all alone. And they almost did it."

"But that still doesn't explain the Room of Requirement," Harry said, turning his attention to the wall in front of them. "Why didn't it open? It's not like they could ask me to show up without knowing how it worked—they were the ones inside it in the first place!"

"If someone is after you," Ginny said, giving the wall a thorough once-over, as if trying to find a door that was hiding from them. "Then I think that's exactly what happened."

Harry gaped at her. "Go on then! I could use a laugh!"

"Listen, you," she growled, pointing a very Mrs. Weasleyish finger at him. "There were loads of times last year when a D.A. member tried getting the room to let other people in, and it wouldn't budge an inch. Neville was the only one who could use it without any trouble. It's... picky, that room."

Harry groaned. They were over-reacting, as always. If someone really wanted Harry dead they wouldn't have wasted their time with a fake letter. But they refused to listen. Hermione trudged off to an Arithmancy lesson with a last word about Harry talking to McGonagall while Ron and Ginny nodded vigorously.

Throwing up his arms in surrender, Harry grumpily made his way to the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmistress' office, Ron and Ginny in tow.

"Password?" the gargoyle asked.

Harry glared at it. "You were fine to let me in last May."

"You were less angry-looking when I last saw you," the gargoyle countered. Ron bit back a laugh.

"I haven't got the password," Harry spat, his temper rising. "I'd like to speak with Professor McGonagall. Please."

"There, was that so hard?" the statue asked. It jumped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

Harry stomped up the steps, not waiting for Ron or Ginny. He stopped at the top and took a few breaths to calm down. He wasn't angry at McGonagall, after all, and he didn't want to barge in and shout at her out of the blue.

Harry knocked just as Ron and Ginny appeared beside him. There was a substantial silence before McGonagall's voice carried through the door and said, "Enter."

Harry opened the door to the office he had been in so many times and couldn't help but seeking out his new Headmistress' changes.

There were fewer shelves, but the ones that remained all carried the instruments Harry had seen and probably smashed during Dumbledore's tenure. The cabinet housing the Pensieve remained, but it stood next to the only new addition Harry saw. It was a glass cylinder about a foot across and stretching nearly to the ceiling. Swirling around a rather large ruby in the middle were streams of sand, suspended throughout the tube as if frozen while being sucked into the ruby.

"May I help you three?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply. Harry's head snapped up to look at her and saw Dumbledore wasn't in his portrait. "I'm assuming you have a reason for sidestepping my gargoyle and arriving unannounced?"

"Sorry Professor," Harry said. "It's… well it's this."

Harry walked over to the large, talon-footed desk and handed her the letter. McGonagall read it over before peering over the top of the parchment back at him. "Dobby…. I know that name. A rather peculiar elf, asking for pay. He passed on, did he not? Why would Dobby have left something for you? Were you acquainted?"

"We were _friends,_" Harry corrected her. "I freed him from service to the Malfoy family in my second year. He saved my life more than once."

"I didn't know you were on such good terms with house-elves, Potter."

"Nobody did," Harry said. "Which isn't really a problem, until I went to see Winky — Professor, she says she didn't write that letter."

McGonagall reread the letter and looked back and forth between it and Harry several times before she spoke. "And you trust her at her word? You believe it to be forged?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

Their Headmistress' face darkened rather the way Hermione's had a few minutes previously. "When did you receive this letter, Harry?"

"Saturday evening," Harry said. "I found it on my pillow when I was getting ready for bed."

McGonagall was silent for a time. She stood from her desk but stopped, as though she hadn't thought what to do once standing. "Why the elf Winky?" she asked at last. "There were plenty of house elves to choose from. You have your own, haven't you, Harry? Why not yours?"

"Well Kreacher is at the Burrow," Harry said. "But we knew Winky. Ron and Hermione and I met her when the Dark Mark appeared at the World Cup four years ago. Then when she came to Hogwarts, we talked to her again with Dobby. She told us about Crouch and his son."

"I see. And you wouldn't happen to be on good terms with another handful of house-elves, would you?"

Harry shook his head.

McGonagall sighed. "I was afraid of that. You said you received it on Saturday? Once term had started?"

Harry nodded again.

"And what is this Come and Go Room?" McGonagall asked. Harry did his best to explain the Room of Requirement, and Professor McGonagall was startled to hear about such a peculiar room. "You call it the Room of Requirement. The elves call it the Come and Go Room?"

Harry nodded a third time. Professor McGonagall's frown grew colder. "Why does that matter?" Harry asked.

"Because it is _convincing,_ Harry. No doubt you went to see her at midnight?"

"Yes. There was no door though. It didn't appear on its own, and I couldn't get it to show up when I asked."

"Well of course not," McGonagall said quickly. "I expect it would be difficult to enter a room with a house-elf when the elf in question is somewhere else."

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said, feeling foolish.

"Thank heavens for that," McGonagall said. "I hope you haven't gone looking for whoever wrote the letter. They may well be in that room even now."

"We haven't," Harry said. "I spoke with Winky during lunch. Then these two and Hermione told me to come see you."

"And they were right to do so," McGonagall said, throwing a relieved look to Ron and Ginny, who had been impressively silent. "This is concerning—frightening even, Harry. I'm reluctant to let you out of my sight at the moment. Albus will be free next period. I'll send someone to fetch him and we can hear what he has to say."

"Not you too!" Harry pleaded. "I'm not in mortal peril! If they wanted to kill me they could've done instead of leaving a stupid letter! And if they really know so much about me, they'd go after Ginny and Ron and Hermione to get to me."

He'd said it before realizing what was coming out of his mouth. Ron took off down the stairs, having had the same thought as Harry. "RONALD WEASLEY! YOU WILL NOT TAKE ANOTHER STEP!"

Harry had never heard McGonagall so cross. They heard Ron's footsteps stop halfway down the spiral staircase. He didn't come back up, but Harry didn't hear him descend any further.

"What class is miss Granger in at this moment?" McGonagall asked tensely.

"Arithmancy," Harry and Ginny said together.

"Wonderful. About as far from here as you can be in this castle."

"Professor," Harry pleaded. "We can't leave her there."

The danger had become very real when Harry realized that his friends might be targets. Was it such a stretch? If someone had enough knowledge to bait Harry with Dobby and Winky, they would undoubtedly know Harry's relations to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. And hadn't their first attempt to get ahold of him already failed?

What would their second try look like?


	9. Deductions

A/N: Chapter 9!

So the word "whoever" comes up a lot this chapter, and I'm pretty sure I'm using it correctly, but I might just be a dummy and using it instead of "whomever" so I hope that doesn't drive you nuts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"With me, you two," McGonagall said quickly, pointing to Harry and Ginny. She passed them as she walked out of her office and began the descent down the staircase.

Harry and Ginny wasted no time following her, and they met Ron on the way down.

"Professor, what—?" Ron spluttered.

"You as well, Ronald, follow me," she said curtly. Harry noticed her wand was drawn.

They marched the handful of corridors that would take them to Hermione's Arithmancy class. They were largely unseen as most students were in class, but a few did spot them, and Harry figured it was a rather odd sight, the Headmistress with her wand out while three students followed her single file down one hallway after another.

They arrived at long last outside Professor Vector's classroom, and Harry realized his heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. McGonagall seemed to realize her wand was out and pocketed it, rapping quickly on the door. She entered before a response was given.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny decided to wait outside while they heard Professor McGonagall request to withdraw Hermione from the lesson.

A moment later, Hermione and Professor McGonagall emerged, Hermione looking hugely relieved when she saw the three of them. "Oh thank goodness! I thought something might have happened when Professor McGonagall came in."

"Nothing yet," McGonagall said while Ron swallowed Hermione in a fierce hug. "Harry brought up a rather good point about the danger you were in if this imposter knew about even the lesser affairs of you three."

When Ron finally released her, Hermione looked rather guilty. "I should have thought of that, Professor. I'm sorry to make you worry."

"Not at all," McGonagall said with a very slight smile. "You're safe, and that's far more important."

"So what happens now?" Ginny asked.

"I would very much like to hear what Albus thinks of this little episode," Professor McGonagall said. So the five of them marched back up to McGonagall's office, where they waited for Dumbledore's portrait to appear.

The office was quiet while they waited. There weren't enough chairs for all of them, so Harry took to standing, looking once more around the room. His eyes fell again on the large glass tube with the floating sand and the ruby.

"What is this, Professor?" Harry asked, leaning in close to examine the granules of sand. With it right in front of his face, Harry could see that the sand was indeed moving, but it was so slowly that it might as well not have been. It reminded Harry of Slughorn's hourglass that measured how interesting a conversation was.

"It is an hourglass," McGonagall said.

"How do you read it?" Ron asked.

"It does not measure hours, Mr. Weasley, but progress. When all of the sand has gathered around the ruby, whatever task you are working on will have been completed."

"Not a good sign then, is it?" Ron asked. "It'll be a while before we know who wrote that letter, then."

"It is for far less demanding projects than mystery solving, I'm afraid," Professor McGonagall said resignedly. "Paperwork, errands to run, letters to send—to-do lists, mostly."

"Shame. Oh well, it's not like we haven't got any practice in unraveling dark plots, have we?"

"My thoughts precisely," said Dumbledore. They all jumped, and turned to see him in his portrait, taking to his chair in the picture frame. "So let's get to it, shall we? Harry, I daresay you know how this goes? As much as you must be tired of it, I must ask you again to recount the events leading up to this point."

"Right," Harry said. For the third time that day, he recounted the story of the letter, of Winky and the Room of Requirement. Unlike the others, however, and much to Harry's appreciation, Dumbledore, as he always had done, waited for Harry to finish before asking questions. Harry thought it was one of the things he liked most about Dumbledore.

"A rather interesting tale indeed," Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard in thought. "Using Winky as a lure was quite the gamble, and lucky for us it has not paid off for them."

"What do you mean a gamble?" Harry asked.

"Well, as you no doubt have realized, this person, whoever they are, knows a great deal about you, Harry. That makes them a threat we should not take lightly, but I think they are at a great disadvantage now that we know this. As proved, I would guess, by the four of you all standing here and unharmed."

"Then where do we go from here?" Ginny asked. "It's not like we've got any leads, do we?"

Dumbledore thought this over for a moment. "None that make themselves obvious, no. It is troubling that someone we count a friend would take such actions."

"What do you mean by that, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking taken aback.

"Minerva, I would be absolutely stunned if this letter forger was malevolent in nature," Dumbledore said. "Even in light of Voldemort's attack, I have always believed Hogwarts to be very good at keeping out those who would do its students harm. I think anything short of another open assault would not be enough to grant entry."

"But…." It was Hermione who spoke, and she did so very quietly. As if she was nervous about contradicting Dumbledore. "What about the centaurs?"

"The centaurs?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. "Surely you don't think a centaur behind all of this, Hermione?"

"No sir," Hermione said quickly, her cheeks slightly pink. "But we heard one telling Hagrid that they think Hogwarts is less defended than it had been."

"Do they now?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows rising. Clearly this was the first he'd heard about their concern, as McGonagall spoke next.

"They've been saying it all summer," McGonagall said dismissively. "I took them quite seriously at first, Albus—I went over every protection we had invoked after Voldemort's attack. I triple-checked every barrier when they continued to voice this concern. But nothing is amiss, Albus, I assure you. You know how centaurs are… how much stock they put into their… astrology."

"I do know, Minerva," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I am also predisposed against the study of Divination, as you are, I believe. But the centaurs have the privilege of being rather quiet, unlike us."

"Meaning what, exactly?" McGonagall said, almost irritably.

"Meaning those of few words ought to be heard when the speak up. I would rather like to speak with Firenze. Might we continue this discussion in his classroom, Minerva?"

McGonagall had a stony look on her face. "If you think it best, Albus."

"I do. We can reconvene after the day's lessons end—but first, Harry, would you please call Kreacher for us? I would like him to keep an eye on the four of you. Perhaps he will be able to see this dilemma from an angle we cannot."

"I can't come to the meeting with you?" Harry asked. "This whole thing is about me."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Of course you are welcome, Harry. But I don't think we are going to make very much progress, and I can only imagine how very bored you will find yourself before long."

"I don't care," Harry said firmly. "I want to figure out this mess so things can go back to normal."

"As you wish. But Kreacher first, if you please, Harry."

Harry nodded and called, "Kreacher!" and the house-elf appeared with a loud crack.

"You called, Master Harry?" Kreacher asked, bowing before Harry. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Kreacher," Dumbledore spoke from his painting. The elf turned to look at him. "Someone wrote Harry a very deceitful letter, and delivered it inside this castle. They forged it to appear his friend in an attempt to get Harry alone. We do not know the identity of this imposter, but it is very likely they will try to contact Harry again. I would like you to follow Harry, as well as Ronald, Hermione, and Ginevra, here, to see if you can find out who this person is."

Kreacher bowed at once, and said very urgently, "Of course, sir! Kreacher will do all he can to keep Master Harry and his friends out of harm's way."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, beaming. "You may enlist a few more house-elves if you would like, but make sure to keep your distance. We don't want the person too scared to act again, otherwise we might never discover them. Do you think you could do that, Kreacher?"

"Oh yes," Kreacher said, bowing deeply with pride. "Kreacher has had ample practice following in shadow, sir."

"But of course," Dumbledore smiled, and Harry got the feeling he had known about Kreacher following Malfoy two years before. "Now, I am off to speak with Firenze personally. Minerva, if you would be so kind as to bring the heads of houses when you come down—and Hagrid, I think too, will want to hear of this. The four of you are welcome of course, but I warn you us teachers tend to drone when we gather."

* * *

Dumbledore hadn't lied. That evening after dinner, after McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn, both Dumbledores, and Hagrid had gathered in Firenze's grassy office, Harry was tired of all the talking.

It had only taken the professors five minutes to get up to speed on the situation, and another ten to suggest their theories. For the last forty-five minutes they had been talking in circles.

Firenze was not of the same opinion of the other centaurs, and thought the school was no differently defended than before. When asked why he might differ from the other centaurs, Firenze had no answer.

It turned out Hagrid had asked the herd in the Forbidden Forest what they meant specifically with their cryptic warnings, but they had never given him a satisfactory answer. "They only say the school could be better defended, then leave. Won't name spells or enchantments or anythin'," Hagrid had said.

It had therefore become a mystery as to what the school could be lacking as well as whoever was after Harry. After another hour of getting nowhere, the meeting finished.

"As we are still in the dark about this," Dumbledore's portrait said, "I would like the four of you to avoid any… misadventures you might be tempted to go on."

"And what about the other students?" asked Professor Sprout. "Are we to consider them safe?"

"I think so, yes," Dumbledore said. Then he chuckled, "At least, as out of danger as one can be at Hogwarts."

This didn't seem to reassure the other professors, but they had all exhausted their worries in their discussion, and there wasn't much else that could be said.

"One last thing," Dumbledore said, as Harry started walking out. "I would like the four of you not to seek entry to the Room of Requirement until we have this sorted out."

"But they've already tried it and didn't find anything!" Harry said, pointing to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Indeed, you have told me this several times," Dumbledore said, in a not-to-be-argued-with tone. "However there has been ample opportunity for the person to retreat back to the room without our notice. I want you four to stay away from that room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," the four of them said together.

"Very well. I leave them to you, Minerva."

* * *

Night had long since fallen when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left Firenze's office. They walked up to the Gryffindor common room in relative silence, sick of talking about the letter. When they clambered through the portrait hole, Harry was pleased to find that word hadn't spread, and none of the other Gryffindors barraged them with questions, except for queries about when Quidditch practice would start.

The four of them started on their remaining homework for the evening, and Harry tried not to think about the letter. It was the last thing he needed—more excitement. Why couldn't he have a normal year at Hogwarts? He'd thought, rather bitterly, that with all of the Wizarding world's emphasis on seven, his last year at Hogwarts might be somehow different than his other years. (Different of course, in that it was quiet and uneventful.) Clearly he'd been wrong. Harry was hoping Kreacher would have the culprit rounded up by the end of the night, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. Things were never that simple.

So he distracted himself with homework, which worked for an hour or so, until he finished it all, and then he preoccupied himself by making a practice schedule for Quidditch.

It didn't work very well. When he and Ron dragged themselves up the spiral stairs to their dormitory, he had written a reply to the letter he received the night before without even noticing. It read:

_I would still like to meet you._

_I don't think you're trying to kill me, otherwise you would have already. Whatever it is you do want from me, I want this over with before things get out of hand. I don't think I'll be able to get into the Room of Requirement again, but we can meet somewhere else. I'll be in the third-floor corridor tomorrow at midnight, if you get this letter._

_Harry_

Harry set the letter on the foot of his bed after Ron went to sleep, and hoped he wouldn't kick it onto the floor in his sleep.

But it was no use. The next morning, Harry found the letter ripped to pieces under a note that said,

_Master Harry should NOT arrange a secret meeting with a fraud who may be after his life!_

_Kreacher_

Harry groaned. He just wanted the ordeal to be out of the way. Even if, by some horrendous gap in Hogwarts' security, a free Death Eater had managed to sneak into and remain hidden in the castle, Harry would rather just duel them and be done with it. He'd taken a year off school to play a game of hide and seek with a Dark wizard, he felt no strong desire to do it again.

Harry's mind was on the letter all morning, but he'd have been better off paying attention in class for all the good it did him. As he learned the night before, there was nothing to go on when it came to the imposter. No evidence, clues, no leads.

By the time lunch came around, Harry had the suspicion that Dumbledore had every portrait in the castle keeping an eye out for him, as he felt watched as he never had before while walking from classroom to classroom.

It wasn't until the end of his double-potions lesson with the Slytherins (all two of them that were left in Slughorn's seventh year class) that Harry was dragged out of his own thoughts.

"Harry, are you listening?" he heard Slughorn ask.

"What—oh, sorry?"

"I was asking," Slughorn said, "if you'd like to come to one of my little parties? I'm sure you remember them. Wasn't much chance for them last year, you see, but with things calmed down a bit, I thought it just the right time to start them up again!"

"Sure," Harry said, without thinking.

"Excellent! It'll be Friday, at seven, my office, as usual. And don't you go getting any detentions, now, Harry, or I'll think you're avoiding me!" Slughorn laughed at his own joke and Harry nodded, realizing the blunder he had just made.

"Oh, it won't be so bad," Ginny said as they walked up the stone steps to dinner. "Hermione's coming, and Ron's been properly invited this much so he won't be sulking about it."

"That's good to hear," Harry said, not really paying attention. His mind was back on figuring out a way to contact the person who had written that letter.

"And Neville's been put back in Slughorn's good graces too," Ginny said, with a scoff. "Apparently he liked Neville's heroics with Voldemort's snake so now he's being all chummy with him. And I hear Scrimgeour's coming, too, so that'll be interesting."

"Mhm," Harry said dimly. He felt a blunt pain in his shoulder and turned to see Ginny had punched him. "What was that for?"

"Oh, I _wonder_…." Ginny drawled, rolling her eyes. "Scrimgeour at Slughorn's party? Harry, I'd rather you just stop talking than pretend you're listening."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"You've got to stop pulling your hair out over that stupid letter. It'll sort itself out."

"What makes you say that? I wanted a normal year at school, and I'd be surprised if McGonagall doesn't lock up in some classroom by the end of the week if we don't figure this out."

"Well Harry Potter and 'normal' have hardly ever gone together, so I advise you suck it up, Chosen One. If you're looking for normal, I think Slughorn's party is going to be as close to it as you're going to get for a few weeks," Ginny said. "I'm going to sit down for dinner. Would you care to join me, or will you be be fantasizing about meeting some murderer in an empty classroom in the middle of the night?"

"The second one," Harry said flatly.

Ginny glared at him. "I was being sarcastic, but really, that sounds about right, doesn't it?" She laughed bitterly. "Normal girlfriends get to be jealous of other girls, but not me, I have to compete with Death Eaters and criminals. Well, off you go then! Off to your dormitory so you can go brood!"

"Ginny, what are you—"

"Go on, Potter!" she barked, crossing her arms and stamping her foot. She glowered at him, waiting for him to move.

"I haven't had any dinner yet," Harry said weakly.

Ginny fumed, looking furious. "Well enjoy yourself, will you?" Ginny spat, and she stomped past him, practically knocking Harry over.

Harry was bewildered. Normally they could go back and forth with exceptional levels of sarcasm and both come off just fine. But whatever he had done to set her off could be figured out later. He was hungry, and quite angry himself all of a sudden.

Harry sat away from Ron and Hermione, piled a few turkey drumsticks onto his plate, and wolfed them down, eager to be gone from from the crowds in the Great Hall, which were very annoying all of a sudden.

Harry stormed up to his dormitory a few minutes later, determined to discover a way to to contact the letter writer. He sat on his bed, going over what he knew.

Whoever wrote that letter had knowledge of his relationship with Winky. Harry listed off the people that included. None of them had any reason to impersonate her to get him alone. Then he wondered who could get into Hogwarts, into Gryffindor Tower, to deliver that message. That list included Gryffindors (or Hogwarts students, if Harry was being open-minded about it,) house-elves, teachers, and, as proven by his godfather, Animagi who knew what they were doing.

An unregistered Animagus! It would be such a simple solution! His teachers hadn't thought of an Animagus, they had only gone endlessly over names of Death Eaters and possible gaps in the school's protections. There had to be something discreet sitting in his room—bug or a lizard or something. Harry looked wildly around, expecting to find a very small animal waiting to be noticed. There was nothing. The only other living thing in the Boy's Dormitory at the moment was Neville's Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

Not an Animagus then. But what else could deliver the letter? A student, maybe, given the letter and told it was for Harry. No one would have thought anything of it, either. After all, Harry had received dozens of notes and letters in person while at Hogwarts. Yes, a student made sense. But then, what student would know about Harry's connection to both Dobby and Winky? He supposed if someone was really desperate, they could have asked other elves if Harry had been particularly close to them, but Harry thought this extremely unlikely.

Then another thought occurred to Harry. He ran downstairs to find Ron and Hermione. He spotted them in one of the armchairs by the fire, next to Ginny.

"I've just realized—" Harry started eagerly, but Ginny took one look at him and stood up before marching off to the Girls' Dormitory.

"Harry you really ought to apologize," Hermione said, her voice full of pity.

"Apologize for _what?_" Harry demanded. "I haven't done anything besides be a bit sarcastic—and if that's going to get me in trouble then I expect we won't be talking much in the future."

Hermione sighed, "I don't know why I bother. You boys are so thick. Well? What is it then? What's this great epiphany you've had?"

"Okay then, how about this: What if the person who wrote the letter wasn't the person who delivered it? What if a Death Eater outside school has someone doing their dirty work?" Harry said, quite proud of his theory.

"What's your plan then?" Hermione asked with an amused look. "Interrogate everyone in the school until someone tells you they've done it?"

"Well… there's not too many of us…."

"Harry don't be ridiculous," Hermione said tiredly. "McGonagall's about as likely to force Veritaserum down students' throats as Dumbledore. You heard the professors, Harry, we'll just have to wait. I think Kreacher will be the one to give us a name, if anyone does. Besides, weren't you only this afternoon telling us how big of a deal this wasn't? Weren't you convinced that this person didn't want to kill you?"

Harry felt deflated. He had been hoping for another round of brainstorming with Ron and Hermione, this session far more successful than the others. But Hermione had no interest in matching up every student in the castle (or at least in Slytherin house) with every person who might want Harry dead. And Ron, it turned out, was putting all of his efforts into keeping his silence, as he tended to shout at Harry for making Ginny upset as soon as he opened his mouth.

Deciding he didn't need their help anyway, Harry bolted up the stairs again to his bed, eager to start pairing up names and finding the most likely scenario. He connected the dots that floated around in his mind like people on the Marauder's Map. He went through Death Eater after Death Eater, Slytherin after Slytherin, listing off reasons one would have a connection to the other as well as the desire to kill him.

Ron came up to bed sometime later and went to sleep without a word to Harry.

Ron wasn't the only one not speaking to Harry though, as he soon discovered the next morning. Ginny went through all of their classes, as well as breakfast, lunch, and dinner as if Harry didn't exist.

Hermione was still urging Harry to apologize, "Even if you don't know what you did wrong!" she hissed after Ginny left the Gryffindor table after dinner.

But if Harry was being completely honest, he didn't mind being left alone at the moment. There were too many possibilities running rampant through his mind for him to have much time for anything else. He'd spent all day narrowing down his list of sinister tag-teams, and was so convinced the culprit was one of them that Harry was considering going to McGonagall with his brilliant deductions.

"You'd be wasting your time," Hermione said. "I can guarantee she won't take interest. You _should_ be patching things up with Ginny before they get any worse."

"Oh come off it," Harry sighed. "She can't be that upset if she's still wearing the necklace I gave her."

"Oh Harry…. If only you knew what you were in for."

* * *

A/N:

I think the next chapter will be a bit lengthy as things start heating up, so you all can look forward to that :) (if long chapters excite you, that is...)

I hope you're still on board **nine chapters in**! (- that's like seven more than I expected to write going into this thing...)

I love hearing from you people so **drop a review** if you feel so inclined!

I have this deep-seated fear of going immensely off-track once I get into the meat of a story, so please let me know if this doesn't feel like the story I advertised or the one you signed up for.


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